Lila Blue (24 page)

"How many times have you hiked
here?" I asked.

"At least once a year, so that
makes about seven or eight times."

"Did you ever bring Jamie and
Mark?"

"Sure. Last summer we came
when they stayed with me. Mark was impatient and kept jogging up ahead and
running back down to us. He reminded me of an eager puppy. He finally settled
down on the way back."

"I wonder how long it will be
before he can run again," I said, feeling sad for him.

"Let's call when we get
back," she said. "We can find out first hand."

We were back away from the cliff
now, still in the grassy part but nearing the timber line on the north part of
the head, and Lila found us a spot in the grass in the shade of a copse of
bushy trees, a kind I'd never seen before. Lila didn't know the name of them,
but said they should serve us well as a picnic area. We sat and ate the rest of
our food, listening to the insects in the grasses and the birds in the trees.

I was so relaxed I thought a nap
might be a good idea, but before I could suggest it, there came from behind us
a crashing thundering sound that startled me so much I jolted and cried out.
Lila was just as startled and she gasped. Our heads spun around to find the
monster that must be coming for us, and it was a herd of deer running hard, up
over the hill behind the copse of trees. About fifteen deer ran right past us,
and when I cried out again, this time in recognition and relief that it wasn't
a monster after all, the leader of the herd stopped suddenly and turned his
head toward us. The other deer stopped, following their leader's cue. We sat
very still. While I stared back at the buck, I remembered Lila's account of the
bull elk charging old Abe, but this leader looked brave and wise, so I wasn’t
afraid.

There they were, a whole community
of deer, watching us sitting in the grass barely twenty feet away. They seemed
so intelligent and curious that they were people to me, not animals, but real
people just like me.

The leader kept looking at us, and
we stayed still until he figured we weren't dangerous. Then he casually turned
away from us and led his clan off through the tall grass at a dignified pace.
Apparently the cavorting was only for when no one was looking, or maybe they
had been spooked by something and that's why they had run so hard over the hill
behind us. Still, I got the sense they had been running for fun and exercise,
the way seagulls play on the wind, for the joy of moving, for the thrill of
being in such skilled bodies, able to run and pound the earth with strong legs.
Ah, to be as swift and graceful as a deer.

After they had gone, Lila turned to
me and said, "Cassandra, you are a magnet for wild folks. One morning hike
with you and I've seen more wildlife than on the other seven hikes put
together. You have a gift for calling the wild ones."

"I didn't call them,
honest," I said. "That last bunch about scared me to death."

"Me too," she said.
"I was afraid the Dragon was coming to punish us for sitting on the
grass." She made her eyes go wide.

I laughed. "Me too," I
said. "What else could make that much noise?"

We headed back the way we’d come
and soon we met a young family on their way up. Lila told them about the herd
of deer we'd seen, and the mom said they'd seen a few deer on other hikes here,
but never a big herd like that.

The dad and two kids were all
outfitted with walking shorts, long socks, and hiking boots. He used a
beautiful walking stick of gnarled pale wood. They all carried packs and wore
cloth hats. Hiking was like being in a club that required proper costumes and
accessories. We all smiled and wished each other a good day, and Lila and I
stepped to the edge of the path and let them ease past us without harming the ecosystem
one iota.

Everything was still lovely on the
way down, but it was getting warm and my bladder was trying to get my
attention, so I was glad when we got to the parking area. I couldn't face using
the port-a-potty, so I held on for the ride home and ran to the bathroom as
soon as Lila unlocked the door. I was so relieved I swear I heard angels sing
while I sat on the pot and relaxed with a big sigh. Hiking was heaven, but so
was making it to the toilet in time.

Wednesday afternoon while Lila was
at work, I remembered Jamie's drawings and my letter. I went back up to the
Crow's Nest to get them and started going through Lila's art books, looking for
anything that might be similar to Jamie's black ink style. I found several
things that had similar elements, like the strong lines on one impressionist
painting, only it was oil on canvas and bright colors. The ink drawings in the
books generally had more lines or more details, nothing as sparse as Jamie's
work. Cartoon drawings seemed close, but Jamie's work carried more weight, more
gravity as in seriousness or solemnity.

Pretty soon the table was piled up
with big glossy open art books, and I saw a vision in my mind of them all
scattered on my mom's big glass dining room table. Janice would love these pictures.
The few times she took me on outings with boyfriends to the beach, she dragged
us through all the art galleries in the coastal towns. My mother loved art. She
would stand and stare at a painting for five minutes, long enough for her guy
and me to wander all over the gallery, look at all the souvenirs by the front
counter, and wander all around again.

I left the books out on the table
and brought Jamie's drawings and my letter downstairs and put them in the top
drawer of the dresser in my room. Then I locked up the house and walked through
a fierce cold wind to our little part of Rainbow Village.

Lila and Herbert were both cutting
hair, and two people were in the waiting area, so I waved and went on to the
bookstore to see what Molly was up to. She was in the back corner of the shop,
the kitchen area, fixing tomato soup for her family. She poured hot soup into
big mugs, and I carried the tray for her to the coffee table in front of the
window couch. Curtis was reading in his chair there, so I handed him a mug of
soup. He took it and smiled, but I don't think he registered who I was. From
the book jacket, I guessed Curtis was in the Himalayas.

Marge, who was unpacking a shipment
of fresh books behind the counter, left her work and called Bradley and had him
sit with her on the couch. GrumpaLump were taking up the rocking chair as
usual, so Molly and I sat on the floor across from Marge and Bradley. Just when
everyone got comfortable, some visitors, Lila's polite word for tourists, came
in the shop. I could tell visitors from locals easily now, and these looked
confused.

Marge smiled and waved them in.
"You're in the right place," she said. "I keep my family here in
the window so I know what they're up to. Holler when you need something."

The young couple held hands and
browsed through the crowded aisles of books. I wondered if they thought Curtis
and I were Marge's kids too. It was fun to be part of the local color.

After I helped Molly wash the soup
mugs, she took me upstairs to their apartment. She was wild to try a new
braiding idea on me. She got me all arranged in a kitchen chair and stood
behind me. This time she wanted to try narrow French braids interspersed with
thicker ones, all culminating at the nape of the neck in a ponytail.

When I couldn't understand what she
described and asked for a picture, she said, "It's an inspired thought.
The picture is in my mind. I'll show you when we're done."

I wasn't excited about the
possibility of being there all day, but I couldn't think of a good excuse to
jump up and run out, so I let her work. It was kind of fun having someone mess
with my hair after all these years of never letting anyone touch it. Molly was
gentle and funny, so I relaxed and let her play.

"Did Lila tell you about Kitty
Lynn?" Molly asked.

"No. What happened?"

"Her dog had a stroke and died
at the shop yesterday, and Kitty was so upset she fainted and cut her head on
the edge of the counter. She's in the hospital."

"Poor Kitty Lynn," I
said. "She adored that dog."

"Curtis and I took her a gift
basket this morning, and she's trying to be brave. Do you think we should find
her a puppy?"

"I don't know. No one can take
Oleander's place."

"But a puppy would take her
mind off everything."

"Yea, but it might tear up her
whole yarn shop," I said, and we laughed to imagine how much fun a puppy
would have in there.

"You're right," Molly
said. "We'll find an older dog for her."

"When can she come home?"

"Her daughter from Eugene is
coming to take her home in the morning. They wanted to make sure her head is healing.
There was a big bandage and both her eyes were black, so it might be a while.
The shop will be closed until she gets better."

Molly's kitchen chair was not as
comfortable as those at the barbershop, so I got tired of the braiding before
Molly did. She found a place to pause in her creation, and we went back
downstairs and told Marge we were going to Lila's. Marge had a line of
customers, and she looked so happy visiting with them and ringing up sales. I
could see she'd created a very happy life for herself. She was queen of
Sunshine Books.

Herbert's chair was free, so we
borrowed it until he needed it again. Soon Molly was tired of braiding so I
ended up with an asymmetrical look that was not aesthetically pleasing. Molly
spun me around and gave me the hand mirror so I could see the back. It was
egregious.

"Not perfect," I said.

"Not remotely
acceptable," Molly said, so we worked together to take it all out. Then I
combed my hair and made simple pigtails, securing them with plain rubber bands.

When Lila finished her customer,
she made us tea and we sat in the waiting area with her while she rested her
legs. Then I remembered the art books.

"You know all the art books in
the Crow's Nest?" I said. "Could we send some to Janice? She likes
art."

"That's a great idea,"
Lila said. "Most of those books are ones friends gave me when they were
moving, so I'm not attached to any. We'll ship them all if you think she has
room for them."

"But isn't it expensive?"

Molly said, "Mom gets big
boxes of books all the time. There's a special rate for books, so it's not
bad."

"It will be worth it to send
inspiration and beauty to your mother," Lila said. "We'll get them
ready tonight."

"Let's get boxes from my
mom," Molly said, so after we finished tea, we ran back to the bookstore
and got boxes to lug back to Lila's house.

That night after dinner, Lila and I
went upstairs to decide which books to send Janice first. While we were
standing over the table, I felt a weird little trickle and ran down to the
bathroom. Sure enough, the first dark blood had begun. It barely spotted my
undies, so I got fresh ones and a pad, and then rinsed the tiny stain out and
hung them to dry on the edge of the laundry hamper. I felt proud of myself for
catching the beginning of my period before making a mess of anything. This
wouldn't be too bad. I remembered the weird crampy feeling I'd had just as we
sat for dinner, so I thought, next time I'll use a pad before the blood
started.

I circled July thirty-first in my
little calendar. At this rate, I could predict my next menses would begin on
August twenty-ninth. It felt good to be gaining some illusion of mastery over
the uncontrollable mystery of my body.

August twenty-ninth was almost
September, which was the beginning of seventh grade. The summer was more than
half over. I prayed with all my heart I would be riding the bus with Molly in
September down to the school at the south of town. They had kindergarten
through eighth grade all in one school. Molly said there were about fifty kids
in her grade, and she knew everyone. In Sacramento, I was one of hundreds. Here
I would be somebody.

The only thing I would miss about
California, besides my mother some days, would be Shelly. We never would have
made it through fifth and sixth grades without each other.

Lila came down to see if I was
okay, and I told her about my periods starting and predicting when they would
come in August.

She nodded, pleased I was taking
charge of planning them. "Do you need any supplies?" she asked.
"Remember to put them on the grocery list, so you'll always have plenty.
It's like having plenty of gas in the car or plenty of toilet paper. There's
never a good excuse for running out."

I laughed. "Someone should
have taught Janice that," I said. "She's always running out of toilet
paper or milk or nail polish remover. She always has good excuses why she
forgot to get them."

"Well, there's nothing wrong
with that lifestyle either," Lila said. "Whatever makes people happy
is fine with me. I love having plenty of everything on hand so I'm not rushing
around at the last minute. I enjoy feeling prepared."

"Me too," I said. I felt
relaxed with Lila. With Janice I felt an emergency was always waiting around
the corner. It was nice to know it was a chosen lifestyle rather than a fact of
life. I wanted a peaceful, orderly lifestyle. Relaxed. Happy. Easy going.

Back upstairs, we selected seven
art books for the first shipment, including impressionists, art history,
realists, modern art, portraits, landscapes, and finally a book all about Georgia
O'Keefe, because I thought my mom would love her desert studies of bones, as
well as her close up flowers. If she liked those, we could send more.

I hadn't talked with Janice since
the time she was so drunk. Lila talked with her nearly every morning on the
phone, short conversations where Lila was especially calm and supportive and
Janice ended the call after a few minutes. Lila had told my mom about my idea
to send some art books, and Janice had said okay, but she didn't promise she'd
have time to look at them. That information made me happy, because I thought if
she hasn't got time to open a picture book, she hasn't got time to arrange to
get me back to California and ready for school in September.