Lynn Osterkamp - Cleo Sims 03 - Too Many Secrets (4 page)

From: [email protected]

Subject: Moxie meeting

Date: November 28

To: [email protected]

Hi Cleo. I talked to everyone about a group meeting with you
and they agreed. Looked at the evenings you said you could meet & tomorrow
(Wed 11/29) is best for us. My house, 7:00 p.m., 2047 Balsam. We’ll bring food
and wine.

I’m including a quick overview of the Moxie group to get you
started:

Diana Lesko - Physical therapist, massage therapist, rolfer,
into boxing & bodybuilding. Age 42 - 2 kids: Amy(14) & Hugh(15).

Hana Kim - Computer programmer, numerologist, climber, skier.
Age 39 - one daughter, Carina(9)

Lark Dove - Nurse, potter, climber, skier. Age 39 - one son,
Darby(9)

Paige Mosier - Yoga teacher, Wiccan high priestess (aka Rivka
Ravenstar. Age 41 - two sons, James(12) & Mathew(13)

Me, Gayle Winfield - Real estate agent, musician, runner. Age
41 - one daughter, Nicole(16)

Sabrina Larson (former member?) - Nurse, runner, gardener.
Age 40 - one son, Ian(16)

As I drove to Gayle’s house, I realized I was looking forward
to the Moxie meeting. Whatever happened with the Sabrina investigation, I was
eager to meet this group of strong single mothers. I might be on my way to
becoming a single mother myself—not a path I had consciously chosen. But
at thirty-seven I knew my biological clock was ticking. And I knew I wanted
this baby whether or not Pablo and I decided to get married, so
single-motherhood was an option I was open to.

Gayle’s house was exactly what I’d expect a smart Boulder
real estate agent to own. A modern stone and wood two-story perched on a mesa
in central Boulder with 360-degree views, and only blocks from downtown. When I
got there at 7:00 p.m., I saw four cars parked in her long driveway, which told
me that Moxie had probably planned a pre-meeting, most likely to prepare what
they would say to me. Understandable.

Gayle answered the door dressed in skinny jeans and a black
fitted t-shirt—the perfect outfit for her tiny body and black pixie-cut
hair. “Thanks for coming,” she said, hustling me through a sparsely
furnished living room with floor-to-ceiling windows and white walls splashed
with color from several large abstract paintings. I would have liked to take a
closer look at the artwork, but Gayle darted off ahead of me, jabbering loudly
to be heard over the din of female voices coming from a room ahead of her.
“Everyone’s here, in the kitchen eating, drinking and chattering
away,” she said. “We all have our theories about Sabrina, and quite
frankly we’re not agreeing on much. I’m hoping you can bring some clarity.
First I’ll quiet them down so I can introduce you.”

In the gleaming eat-in kitchen, four women sat around a
glass-topped table cluttered with plates, platters of food, and wine bottles.
Gayle didn’t need to silence them, because they all stopped talking as soon as
we came in. I sensed a discordant vibe, as if unspoken harsh words hung in the
air. But if Gayle noticed, she didn’t let on. Just took advantage of the quiet
spot to introduce me. “Okay, guys, this is Cleo Sims. And Cleo, this is
Diana, Lark, Paige and Hana.” She pointed at each as she named them. I
concentrated on connecting their names to their faces, as I said hello to each
in turn.

Diana was seated at the far end of the table. A stocky
muscular woman with closely cropped brown hair and full lips. Next to her was
Hana, a slim Asian woman with long straight black hair. Then Paige, whose long
curly red hair had the effortless windblown look many women envy. Finally, at
the end closest to me was Lark, a tall Nordic blonde with steely blue eyes.

Gayle moved toward the empty chair next to Diana and across
from Hana, and motioned me to the seat next to hers, across from Paige and next
to Lark. They passed the food and I quickly filled my plate with a variety of
salads, bread, hummus, and cheese, but declined the wine.

“Maybe we could each tell Cleo a little bit about
ourselves while she eats,” Gayle said. She didn’t mention why they’d
gotten here early enough that they’d all mostly finished eating, but rather
went right on setting out her agenda. “I’ve already spent some time
getting to know Cleo, so how about one of you starts,” she said.

No one spoke up. Hana looked at her plate, her long hair
falling over her face. Paige and Lark sat quietly, their eyes turned slightly
downward, eyeballs still, as if they had moved into a meditative state. Diana
looked directly and intently at Gayle, issuing a silent challenge. Apparently
the Moxie members hadn’t signed on to the program.

I felt the tension but it didn’t affect me. This was their
show. I was there at their request—or at least at Gayle and Bruce’s
request. I was hungry and the food was delicious, so I let myself relax and
enjoy the meal.

Gayle, on the other hand, became increasingly agitated. She
fidgeted, drummed her fingers on the table, and looked around at the women in
turn. Then she grabbed her wine glass and took a big swig. “Fine,”
she said. “We’ll ask for what you want. But I don’t think it’s the way
Cleo works, and I don’t think you’re making a fair request when you expect her
to jump right in and help without getting to know us first.”

Was Gayle the group leader now that Sabrina was gone? I
remembered that she and Sabrina started Moxie. Clearly she intended to be in
charge of tonight’s meeting, and that might have worked if her phone hadn’t
rung just then.

“Oops, I have to take this,” Gayle said, jumping up
and heading down the hall to what I assumed was her office. “Have you
decided?” she asked her caller. “You only have twenty-four
hours…” her voice trailed off as she shut a door behind her.

The other four women lightened up a bit. Hana looked up from
her plate and turned toward me. “Cleo, we mean no disrespect,” she
said. “If we had met under different circumstances, I’m sure we would have
enjoyed sharing stories and getting to know you. But this isn’t about us, it’s
about Sabrina. We need to find her before it’s too late—if it isn’t
already.”

Before I could reply, Diana jumped in. “Gayle told us
about your Contact Project,” she said, “and we all want to sit
together with you tonight to try to contact Sabrina. We owe it to
Sabrina,” she said firmly. Her chin jutted forward, resting on her
clenched fists. “Sabrina would do anything to help one of us, and we can’t
do any less for her.”

Whew! A sticky situation. My head hurt just thinking about
all the explaining and persuading it would take to get this group of women to
fully understand and sign up as informed participants in the Contact Project.
They were not only strong and determined, they were clearly used to getting
their own way. I took a deep breath and offered them an option. “I
understand that you feel desperate about Sabrina,” I said quietly.
“And I wish I could solve your problem right now. But I don’t do group
séances, or any kind of séances. I have a process and an apparition chamber
that some people have used to contact dead loved ones. But only one person at a
time can do it and it takes some preparation. So my suggestion is that if you
all want to try to contact Sabrina, you each meet with me individually. I can
give Gayle some appointment times so anyone who is interested can sign
up.”

They were all looking straight at me now. Even Lark and Paige
had emerged from their inwardly focused trances. “How long will your
process take?” Lark asked, pushing her long blonde hair back behind her
ears. “I have a pretty heavy schedule at the hospital and my son Darby is
only nine, plus I live up in Nederland, so I wouldn’t have a lot of time for
meetings.”

“I know you’re all busy,” I said, looking around at
all four of them. “How about if I just meet with whoever has the time and
wants to do it?”

“Here’s the thing, Cleo,” Paige said. Her voice was
surprisingly soft and musical but intense at the same time. “It’s not just
about our time. It’s about acting quickly. Hana and Diana are right. We need to
be in touch with Sabrina now.” She leaned forward toward me from across
the table, her mop of red hair skimming her wine glass. “And we all need
to be part of it. Our combined group energy will be much more powerful than any
one of us alone,” she said, her green eyes looking intently into mine.
“I understand that it’s not the way you usually work, but this is a
desperate situation. Surely you can make an exception.” I wondered whether
anyone ever said “no” to Paige. Her melodious voice and earnest
demeanor touched me so deeply that I almost agreed to her appeal.

Fortunately, Gayle darted back in right then, which gave me a
minute to regroup. What were they thinking? Their urgency told me that they
still hoped to find Sabrina alive. But they wanted me to help them contact her
spirit? As a grief therapist, I know that the intense pain of grief can lead to
odd kinds of magical thinking. Like seeing someone in a crowd who resembles the
dead loved one, and hoping that somehow a reported death is a mistake. Or
telling yourself that the death was all a bad dream that didn’t really happen.
I’ve helped clients resolve these issues. But I couldn’t do it in one evening
with five women all at once. And I needed to stand firm and uphold what I
believed to be ethical practice as a grief therapist.

“I can’t make an exception,” I said. “The
process isn’t designed to find missing persons. You need to ask yourselves why
you feel this urgent need to try to contact Sabrina’s spirit if you believe she
may still be alive.”

“That’s what we want to find out,” Gayle said.
“Is she alive? And we want to find out as quickly as possible.”

None of them were following my logic, but I wanted to honor
Bruce’s request to work with all of them. So I put my best offer out there.
“I’m willing to meet with each of you like Gayle and I talked about,”
I said. “And then I’m willing to set up sessions in the apparition chamber
for whoever is prepared and wants to do that.”

Gayle grabbed the offer and took charge. I had already met
with her and with her help I signed up the remaining four Moxie women to meet
with me over the next few days. I would meet with Hana Thursday morning and
then with Lark late that afternoon just before her hospital shift. Saturday
afternoon I would meet with Diana, and Sunday with Paige.

“Hey, Cleo. I need a favor. Would you be willing to come
to my house for our meeting today? My daughter Carina is home sick with an ear
infection.” It was Hana Kim on the phone Thursday morning calling about
our 11:00 meeting. “I’ve just taken her to the doctor and she’s on
antibiotics now, but she needs to stay home from school for a couple of days,
and she’s only nine. If you wouldn’t mind meeting here, it would help me a lot.
Carina will be downstairs watching movies, so we can talk freely.”

I couldn’t see any problem meeting Hana at her house, so I
agreed to move our meeting there. It’s not like she’s a therapy client who I
needed to meet in my office. And in my new status as mom-to-be, I was taking an
expansive view of the needs of moms, especially single moms.

Hana’s house was a split-level in the Table Mesa subdivision
in south Boulder. I parked on the street in front and walked along a stone
pathway through a partially-enclosed courtyard to the front door. I had a sense
of how lovely the patio must be in summer. Even on this cold winter day, I
could feel serenity emanating from the large rocks and stone Buddha statue at
the end of the porch.

Hana opened the door before I could knock. The calm
atmosphere continued as I walked through a small entryway to the living room. A
bamboo fountain. Plants. Incense. She had tea and cookies set out on a black
lacquered coffee table in front of a long low couch.

“I love this room,” I said. “It has such a
harmonious feeling.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I used feng shui to
create the room. I like the calm gentle energy.”

We sat on the couch. “I won’t introduce you to
Carina,” Hana said. “Don’t want to expose you to her germs. Like I
said, she’s downstairs watching movies. A rare treat for her. I limit her TV
time pretty strictly, except when she’s sick. Anyway, she’s in her own world down
there. Has a huge glass of OJ. So we don’t need to worry about being
interrupted.” She poured tea from a red oval teapot into matching
handleless cups, put one in front of each of us, then sat back and looked
inquiringly at me. “Where would you like to start?”

“Tell me about Sabrina,” I said. “What is she
like?”

Hana bent her head forward, intently studying her hands. I
admired her glossy coal-black hair, stick straight with bangs cut so evenly her
head could be an avatar in some virtual universe.

She took a deep breath, sat up and turned toward me, her face
composed. “I’m a numerologist—kind of fits with being a computer
programmer, don’t you think?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow.
“Anyway, for me the best way to describe someone’s personality is to tell
you about their destiny number.”

“Sounds interesting. I don’t know much about numerology.
What’s a destiny number?”

“It’s a number derived from all the letters in your full
birth name that describes the potential, opportunities and challenges of your
lifetime. Sabrina’s destiny number is six. Sixes like to give help and comfort
to those in need. They have a strong love of home and domestic affairs and make
the finest, most concerned parents. Sixes are loving, friendly, and
appreciative of others and they have a depth of understanding that produces
sympathetic kindness and generosity.”

My mind drifted briefly to the implications for my baby of
the name I would choose for her or him. I had no idea that a name had this
power. Surely Hana wasn’t implying that I could influence my baby’s personality
by the name I gave her or him. “Are you saying that Sabrina has these
traits because of the name her parents gave her?”

“That’s complicated. What her number does is tell us
about her character and motivation and describe the life tasks she faces using
the name she was given.”

“Is it all positive or do bad traits go with some
destiny numbers?”

“All the numbers have their negative sides. For sixes
that can be stubbornness, self-righteousness, or dominance. Also, sixes can
demand too much of themselves or sacrifice themselves for the welfare of
others. And sometimes they have trouble distinguishing helping from
interfering.”

“So all this fits Sabrina?”

“Yes, I think most of us who know her would agree that’s
a good description of her. She’s a nurse, who works very hard at her job. She
spends most of her free time with Ian going on weekend snowboarding trips to
the mountains. She’s tried over and over to help her sister Brandi, an
ungrateful brat who uses Sabrina for whatever she can get. Sabrina’s been a
loyal friend to all of us, even when things got sticky.”

I let the negatives about Brandi go by to keep the focus on
Sabrina and the Moxie women. “By all of us, you mean the Moxie
group?”

“Yes. Sabrina is the soul of Moxie. She and Gayle
started the group, but Sabrina was the one who kept us on track.”

“How did she do that?”

“She brought in a lot of self-help books that we all
read and talked about. Reading books like
Women
Who Love Too Much
helped us discover how we had ended up in toxic
relationships with men and how to avoid repeating that pattern. She constantly
reminded us to focus on being well and strong and to direct our energy toward
making things happen rather than letting things happen. Unfortunately lately
she hasn’t been happy with the direction we’ve been going.”

“Can you tell me more about that?”

Hana pressed her lips together and ran her hand through her
hair. “Not really,” she said. “I’d be violating the Moxie
confidentiality code.”

“Maybe this is a situation where the confidentiality
code can’t be the main priority,” I said quietly.

Hana squeezed her eyebrows together and looked off into the
distance. “I’ll say this and this is all I’ll say,” she said.
“We Moxie members believe in Karma—that it has a way of teaching
people lessons. But after a while we realized Karma isn’t enough. We might fix
our own lives, but the problem with men who mistreat women is still out there.
Other women are still being hurt the way we were.”

She paused, her eyes darting nervously around the room. Then
she took a deep breath, pulled her shoulders back, lifted her chin, and looked
me directly in the eye. “At some point you have to go beyond surviving and
turn around and face the problem,” she said. “Sometimes action is
necessary. We realized we couldn’t count on Karma to right all the wrongs women
suffer at the hands of men. We needed to help Karma along. We had to find the
courage to act to make things better for all women. And we did that.”

“Mom! Mom, I need help,” Carina shouted from
downstairs. “This DVD is stuck. It won’t play.”

Hana jumped up and turned toward the stairs. “I’ll be
right there, Carina,” she yelled down. She turned to me. “Give me a
minute. I’ll be right back.” then she disappeared down the stairs.

I sat quietly, reflecting on what I had learned from Hana.
Sabrina—whom I noted Hana consistently described in the present
tense—is or was a hard worker, responsible, caring, a loyal friend and
parent who sacrificed her own needs to help others. But as Gayle had divulged a
couple of days ago in my office and Hana had implied today, the joy had somehow
gone out of Moxie, especially for Sabrina.

“I only have a few minutes left. Are we getting closer
to trying to contact Sabrina?” I jumped at Hana’s words. She had come
silently back up the stairs and was standing on the other side of the coffee
table.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “Can you tell me what
happened at the gathering in the mountains and what you think happened to
Sabrina?”

Hana dropped down onto a large floor pillow across the table
from me and tilted her head to one side. “What do I think happened to her?
I think she worried too much and took too much responsibility for balancing an
inharmonious situation, which brought out the self-righteous aspect of a six.
This led her away from her destiny and she can’t find her way back.”

“Are you saying that metaphorically or
practically?”

“Both, I suppose.”

“Does that mean you think she’s still alive and
lost?”

“I think she’s alive. I don’t know about lost.”