Lynn Osterkamp - Cleo Sims 03 - Too Many Secrets (5 page)

“Moxie was just what I needed for most of the last seven
years, but I’m done with it now,” Lark Dove said, shaking her head so
emphatically that her long blonde hair almost dipped into her bowl of soup.
Because Lark lives in Nederland forty-five minutes up the canyon from Boulder,
we were meeting at Breadworks, a bakery cafe near the hospital where she works
as a nurse. It was late Thursday afternoon just before Lark’s twelve-hour shift
and the cafe was pretty much deserted, except for staff cleaning up after the
lunch crowd.

I leaned forward to hear her over the clatter of cutlery and
plates. “I had decided to drop out even before Sabrina disappeared,”
she continued. “One thing you should know about me is that I think for
myself. I don’t let other people make decisions for me. But somehow every time
I was ready to tell the others I was leaving Moxie, Sabrina talked me into
staying one more week to see if things changed the way she hoped they would.
Now that she’s gone, I don’t see Moxie in my future.” She sat back, arms
crossed, as if waiting for me to challenge her decision.

But I had no interest in questioning her plan to leave Moxie.
I just wanted to keep her talking about Sabrina. I kept my face and voice
impassive. “What was Sabrina hoping would change?”

Lark dipped a chunk of crusty bread in her white bean soup,
took a bite, and chewed slowly before she responded. “Some members went
off on a crusade that others of us don’t totally agree with or support,”
she said, rolling her shiny blue eyes. “They have this strong feeling that
Moxie is here for a reason they need to act on. We all believe in taking
conscious action to be a creative force instead of a victim in your life, but
their actions have gone too far.” She shook her head dismissively.

Confusing. I had no idea what she meant. But her eye rolling
and head shaking signaled defensiveness. I spooned some chicken noodle soup
into my mouth and considered how to prod her into being more specific without
making her clam up. Given what Hana and Gayle had said about Moxie’s
confidentiality code, I figured she’d back off if I pushed for details. I
decided to explore her feelings about Moxie first, and then work my way up to
more sensitive topics. “It sounds like you’re clear that you wouldn’t miss
the group,” I said.

She looked down at her soup as she crumbled some bread into
her bowl. “No. I wouldn’t miss it. I’m pretty much an individualist, not
one to join groups. Like I said, I think for myself. My parents were hippies in
the 1960s and basically still are. They raised me and my brothers in the
mountains as self-sufficient free spirits, always outside, hiking, biking,
climbing, and skiing. I like to do my own thing.”

I spread some butter on a cranberry muffin as I decided what
to ask next. Lark dug into a large salad of mixed field greens. “I’m not
much of a group person myself,” I said. “So I’m wondering how you
happened to join the Moxie group.”

Lark looked off to her left as she finished chewing, then
turned back to me. “I joined Moxie mostly because of Sabrina,” she
said. “I met her at work—we were both nurses at the hospital—
and we started eating together in the cafeteria when we were on the same shift.
She was so cheerful and sincere and kept going on about this great group of
strong single moms. And I was a single mom. My son Darby was two then. His
father and I had a free and open relationship. Never married. Neither one of us
wanted to be tied down.”

This relationship sounded familiar. I could certainly relate
to those feelings of not wanting to be tied down. Wonder how that worked out
for her and Darby.

“Are Darby and his dad close?” I asked hopefully.

“No. Jacob said he would stay around and be a dad, but
when Darby was a year old, Jacob got this great opportunity to travel with a
band—he plays bass—and he never came back. That’s why Moxie
appealed to me. I was feeling kind of lonely and the idea of a group of
independent women friends who were all single moms sounded good.”

I felt a jolt of empathy for Lark as my own possible future
flashed before my eyes. What if Pablo decided to go off again like he did years
ago? Could I be a good enough mother to my baby if I was alone? Would I be like
Lark— a lonely single mom looking for supportive friends? “That must
have been awful having him leave you and Darby like that,” I said softly.

Lark shrugged. “Not as bad as it sounds. I have a good
job and a lot of support. That’s one reason I still live in Nederland. My mom
and dad are there and they help out a lot with Darby. By working three twelves,
I have plenty of time to spend with Darby and time for climbing and
skiing.”

This woman did sound like someone who knew her own mind and
acted accordingly. But yet, she let Sabrina influence her. Why? “If you
were clear about leaving the group, how did Sabrina keep talking you into staying
in Moxie?” I asked.

Before she could answer, the front door opened, letting in a
gust of cold air and a group of five women, all about our age. They waved and
smiled at Lark. “Nurses,” Lark said softly as she waved back at them.
“I can’t talk anymore here. Are you up for a short walk?”

It was only about 4:45, but the sun had already set being
that it was mid-December and close to the foothills. Walking along the
storefronts of the small shopping center in the cold and the dark didn’t sound
very appealing, but I wanted the rest of the story, so I agreed. We got our
jackets on, took our dishes to the bin, and headed outside. “Where were
we?” she asked.

I was already shivering in the cold wind but Lark didn’t seem
to notice the temperature at all as she strode along. I hustled to keep up,
hand in my pockets. “You were telling me what Sabrina said to keep you in
Moxie,” I said.

“Right. She’d remind me of the powerful friendship we’d
all shared over the years, how we’d been there for each other when we went
through bad relationships, sick kids, career crises, and other stuff like
that.” Lark sighed deeply. “Sabrina and I have always been close,
working together and all. She has a way of reaching my soul, like she knows me
in ways most people don’t. Somehow I find myself going along with her even when
that wasn’t my original plan.”

We’d reached the end of the sidewalk already, so we turned
back in the direction we came from. By then I was too cold to focus. I hated to
wimp out, but my car ahead promised warmth. “Let’s go sit in my car and
talk,” I said. “I’ll turn on the heat.”

She gave me a puzzled look. “Oh, are you cold? Sorry, I
didn’t realize.”

Once we were inside my Toyota and I relaxed into the warmth,
we picked up the conversation. “Does Sabrina have this irresistible effect
on all the group members?”

“Sometimes, but sometimes not. Who else have you met
with from Moxie so far?”

“Gayle and Hana.”

“Did they talk much about the problems the group was
having?”

“They both told me the group had changed direction in
some ways that Sabrina especially didn’t like, and wanted to change. But they
didn’t give any details. They said Moxie has a confidentiality code that
specifically prohibits talking to other people about what goes on in the
group.” I took a deep breath, then plunged in. “As a therapist, I
certainly understand confidentiality, and I would keep your secrets if you’d be
willing to tell me more.”

Lark pressed her lips together, then lifted her chin and
spoke in a slightly strained voice. “Okay. I’m not afraid to rock the
boat. I’ll tell you more about Moxie. The group is over now anyway, so its
secrets don’t really matter except for the ones that can incriminate specific
members. But I won’t betray people by telling you things that implicate
them.”

“I really only need to know about stuff that affected
Sabrina. Whatever you feel comfortable sharing about that can help.”

“Well, Sabrina had the vision for Moxie in the
beginning. She and Gayle brought us together. All of us were fed up with being
victims, so we didn’t want to sit around sharing our miserable stories of how
we’d let men walk all over us. Sabrina kept reminding us of Oprah’s belief that
your life is defined by your intention—that what you put out comes back
to you.”

I’m not an Oprah watcher, but that sounded positive to me.
It’s always better to move forward rather than obsessing over past injuries.
“How did that work out for you?” I asked.

“Pretty well at first. Going on that path, we plowed
through exercises from stacks of self-help books, and explored different
spiritual paths and practices. One idea that kept emerging was ‘concentrate your
efforts on what you can control.’ We got that this was about being good
parents, taking care of our physical bodies, building or growing our careers,
and looking forward with enthusiasm. Sabrina loved all of that and so did
I.”

“But that all changed at some point?”

“Yes, gradually Moxie turned sour. Some members wanted
to get revenge against exes who had treated them like shit. These guys had lied
and cheated, then denied everything when they got caught. Never apologized.
Showed no remorse. Some of the Moxie members started thinking about the
memories of these bad old relationships as clutter they needed to get rid of in
their lives, the way feng shui gets rid of clutter in a room. They decided that
getting revenge was a healthy way to clear their minds and build their personal
power.”

Hmmm…feng shui. That might be Hana. I still wanted more
detail about these bad old relationships. “What kind of stuff had these guys
done? Can you give me an example?”

Lark paused for a minute, leaning back, eyes closed. Then she
straightened up and looked at me. “Okay. One ex was sleeping with someone
else when his wife was pregnant, and blamed her for not being affectionate
enough. This was when she was working sixty hours a week to support them both
because he was unemployed. He spent money on whatever he wanted and told her it
was none of her business what he did. He said she was nosey. Sometimes he hit
her, but she stayed with him because she wanted them to be a family. When it
got worse and she finally saved some money and decided to leave him, he found
it and took it. Then she found out she was pregnant again. She decided to stay.
She tried to get along with him but he found every excuse he could to have a
tantrum and leave the house. Sometimes he stayed away for days. It took her
another year to come up with the money to take the kids and leave. She’s been
really bitter about the whole thing.”

“What did Moxie do to get revenge on guys like
him?”

“They found out how to set up websites in a way that
hides the owner’s identity. Then they started creating sites about these guys
telling what they had done in the past. They kept their own names out of it,
but they told the truth. They used keywords so the search engines would pick up
the sites and they’d come up if anyone googled the guy. Apparently it’s not
illegal as long as you’re telling the truth, but it sure sends out a lot of
negative energy.”

“Is that what you and Sabrina were upset about?”

“We weren’t happy about that stuff, but it was nothing
compared to what came after it. Some Moxie members made it their mission to
punish men who mistreat women. They made themselves the judges—kind of a
warped worldview. It’s risky and it’s wrong and Sabrina was determined to
change it. But that’s all I can say about it, and I need to get to work.”

She opened the car door and got out, leaving me sitting there
wondering why Tyler had told me not to let Moxie blow it. It sounded like they
already had.

When I got home from my meeting with Lark, I had a sudden
urge to start a painting of the Moxie women. I headed out my back door to my
studio in the stone carriage house remodeled by my grandmother years ago. It’s
where I learned to paint in the peaceful summer mornings I spent there with
Gramma during my childhood and teenage years.

I hadn’t been doing much painting in the last couple of
months, partly because since my pregnancy the smells of the pigments and
thinners made me sick. But I was feeling good and I had a strong vision of how
I wanted to portray the complex women as individuals and as a group. I knew
painting them would help me get in touch with my subconscious insights about
these multifaceted women.

The Moxie members began to take shape as a pack of sleek
panthers, elegant and strong, each with the face of one of the women in the
group. I painted the faces to sharply contrast the women’s most distinct
traits: Hana’s analytical impassiveness, Gayle’s vivid intensity, Lark’s confident
independence, Paige’s earnest inclusiveness, and Diana’s forceful
confrontation. As the painting came together, I sensed their individual
strengths contributing to the group energy but fragmenting it at the same time.

I was deeply absorbed when my cell phone rang. I didn’t
recognize the number, but decided to pick up in case it was one of the Moxie
members wanting to change an appointment.

“Cleo Sims.”

“Hi, Cleo. This is Brandi Peyton. I’m Sabrina Larson’s
sister and I really need to talk to you.” Her warm friendly voice drew me
in immediately.

But wait—this was Brandi. The sister Hana had called an
ungrateful brat. The sister Gayle had said Sabrina didn’t want taking care of
Ian. But then again, also the sister Maria had said she and Ian think is hilarious
and fun to be around. Another complicated woman added to the mix.

I kept my voice neutral and gave no indication that I’d heard
anything about her. “Oh, hello, Brandi. I’m sorry for what you must be
going through with Sabrina being missing.”

“It’s important to stay positive. I still believe we’ll
find her alive. That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

“Sure. Would you like to make an appointment to come
into my office? I think I have an opening at 11:00 tomorrow. Would that work
for you?”

“Maybe,” she sad tentatively. “But I need to
ask you a few things right now. This is a difficult time for me and for
Sabrina’s son Ian, and I’m afraid you’re going to make it worse. Are you
setting up some kind of séance for Gayle Winfield to contact Sabrina’s spirit?”

“Brandi, I know this is a hard time for you and I
certainly don’t want to make it worse. And, no, I don’t do séances.”

“But you do help people get in touch with spirits of the
dead, right?”

“Sometimes.”

“How does it work?”

“That’s way too complicated to explain over the phone,
Brandi. But I’ll be happy to explain it to you if you’d like to come in to my
office.”

“Is Gayle going to do it?” Her voice rose
insistently.

“That’s confidential. I can’t talk to you about what I’m
doing to help other people.”

“So you are helping her. I knew it. Well, you should
know Gayle is using you. She says Sabrina made a will appointing her as Ian’s
guardian and trustee. She’s desperate to show that Sabrina is dead so she can
get that will into court.”

Whew! Brandi sure was working hard to suck me in to the
conversation she wanted to have. But as a therapist I’ve had a lot of
experience dealing with manipulation. She wasn’t going to lure me into
discussing her problems over the phone.

“Brandi, I have to go now. Would you like to come to my
office tomorrow at 11:00 or would you rather check your calendar and call for
another appointment?”

“You can tell Gayle that she’s going to be in a lot of
trouble if she keeps trying to take Ian away from me.”

“I have to go. You can call back and leave a message
about when you want to come in.”

“No, wait. I’ll come tomorrow at 11:00. And remember,
I’m Sabrina’s sister. Those Moxie women aren’t family and they have no rights
when it comes to Sabrina.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at 11:00 —736 Pearl.”

My enthusiasm for painting was gone, so I set about putting
my stuff away, wondering whether Brandi actually knew something that made her
believe Sabrina would be found alive.

§ § §

Brandi showed up promptly at 11:00. She had that fit and
expensive Boulder look—skin-tight designer jeans, black high-heeled
knee-high boots, and a white cashmere turtleneck topped with a fire-engine-red
Montbell down jacket. Her long blonde hair hung loose under a black shearling
sheepskin hat. Her makeup was skillfully applied to give the impression her
looks were all natural. Sort of an eye-candy girl who looks the way she wants
you to see her.

She had two fat leather photo albums in her arms, which she
dropped on the table in front of the couch. Then she took off her jacket and
hat and sat down. As she looked up at me, her whole face lit up in a warm
smile. “I brought these to show you some pictures of Sabrina,” she
said. “I want you to know the special person that she is.” Brandi’s
blue eyes showed a hint of tears, but her bouncy step and cheerful voice didn’t
fit the picture of a grieving person.

I sat next to her on the couch as she paged through pictures
of her and Sabrina growing up, starting with cute shots of her as a toddler
clinging tightly to her older sister’s hand, then moving on to shots of them
sharing happy family times as they grew up. “This was a trip we took to
New York City when I was nine and Sabrina was fifteen,” she said pointing
to a page of snapshots of them in Central Park. “Sabrina and I had so much
fun on that trip! Mom and Dad let us go off on our own on the subway to the
Empire State Building, the Met, Rockefeller Center and all over. Sabrina acted
like I was her best friend instead of a little sister six years younger than
her. I felt so grown-up and special.”

Brandi continued paging through pictures of holidays,
birthday parties, and outdoor sports, many showing her gazing adoringly at
Sabrina who was helping her with some difficult task or activity. But the
pictures ended before Brandi became a teenager. “Our mom died when I was
twelve and Sabrina was eighteen,” she said. “No more pictures.
Everything changed. Dad was overwhelmed and always working, so Sabrina watched
out for me. She was everything to me in those years. Do you have a
sister?” she asked, gently touching my arm.

“No, just a brother,” I said, noticing that I was
feeling a sympathetic connection to her.

“Too bad,” she said. “A sister is very
special.”

Listening to her, I was beginning to wish I had a sister. I
thought about Elisa who is like a sister to me.

“It sounds like you and Sabrina are very close,” I
said, carefully referring to Sabrina in the present tense.

She closed the album we’d been looking at, and turned
sideways to face me. “Sabrina and I have a very strong bond,” she said
earnestly. “She and Ian are all the family I have since our father died
two years ago. I’ve been living with her and Ian for the last eight months and
we’ve had some great times together. Since we’re both single, we help each
other out and we share our worries and hopes for the future. Of course we have
our differences, too, like all sisters do.”

“Can you tell me about some of the differences?”

Her eyes narrowed. “One issue is those Moxie women. They
think everything they do in that stupid group is a deep dark secret. Well it
isn’t. I know a lot.” She tapped her fingers on the coffee table and
continued sharply. “Like Sabrina’s big mysterious birthday celebration. I
knew about it. She tried to make it out to be nothing. Said her big fortieth
party with family and friends was the real deal. But I knew about the vision
journey or whatever and I knew where they were going.” She sat back, eyes
closed, rubbing her forehead.

I gave her a minute, then asked gently, “You said last
night that you’re hoping Sabrina will be found alive. Do you know something
about what happened up there that the police and the searchers don’t
know?”

She opened her eyes and her face brightened. “Missing
persons do turn up alive, you know. Just because she’s missing doesn’t mean
she’s dead. The law considers a missing person alive unless there’s proof the
person is dead. Without proof, you have to wait at least five years before the
courts declare the person dead, and that’s what’s driving Gayle crazy.”

“Because she needs to prove that Sabrina is dead to get
the court to appoint her as Ian’s guardian?”

“Exactly. Which is where you come in. How does your
process of talking to spirits work?”

I explained the apparition chamber and told her how it works
for the person who is trying to contact a loved one who has died.

“So the person is in there alone. You don’t stay with
them?”

“Right.”

“Then how do you know they really contacted the dead
person they say they contacted?”

“That’s really not my concern. The point of contacting
the spirit is for the grieving person to resolve issues or accept the person’s
death. However that works for them is fine with me.”

“But Gayle will lie and say she talked to Sabrina’s
spirit when that’s impossible because Sabrina is still alive. Then she’ll try
to use that as evidence that Sabrina is dead.”

“I seriously doubt that the court would declare Sabrina
dead based on a report from Gayle that she contacted her spirit.”

Brandi’s mouth was smiling but her eyes oozed anger.
“Well I don’t want her going around saying she talked to Sabrina’s spirit.
We all need to think positively. We need to trust that whatever Sabrina’s
doing, wherever she is, she’s where she’s supposed to be and she’ll come back
to us when the time is right.”

She jumped up, gathered her albums, hat and jacket, and gave
me a look that sent chills down my spine. “I have to go now. You can tell
those Moxie bitches they’d better not mess with me. If Sabrina doesn’t come
back soon, I’m going to petition the court to be named trustee of her property
and to be Ian’s guardian. Ian doesn’t want to live with Gayle. He wants to stay
with me. We’re family and that trumps it all for both of us.” She strode
briskly to the door, head held high, and left the room with no backward glance.