What She Left for Me (10 page)

“Dad?”

Her father looked at her oddly for a moment. His gaze appeared distant even as he spoke. “Ellie girl, what are you doing up so late?”

“Sapphira said that Marty and her mom were going to leave here. She said Katie and her mom were going to leave too. Why are they leaving, Dad?”

“Why shouldn’t they?” he asked, his words a bit slurred.

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a free world, Ellie girl. People can come and go as they like. That’s the beauty of it. That’s what makes our way so much better.” He swayed a bit, then stabilized himself by grabbing hold of the table. “They shouldn’t stay if they aren’t happy. Life is all about harmony. They need to find the harmony.”

Eleanor thought about what he’d said well into the night. She tossed and turned on her mattress, wishing she could make sense of everything. Sometimes she felt like she didn’t belong. She loved her folks and her brothers, but sometimes things just didn’t seem to fit.

Nine

The next day Eleanor tried to push aside her discomfort and fears for the future. Sapphira was too busy to come over, but that was okay too. Eleanor had more than enough work to keep her busy. Her mother had told her to wash the dishes after Eleanor’s father had demanded the place be cleaned up.

By evening Eleanor had pretty much forgotten her worries. The boys had been particularly rowdy and had been sent to bed early. It was a relief to have the house quiet and more or less to herself. Her mother was doing something in the back room, but it didn’t involve Eleanor, so she sought her own amusements.

“Now, how does this work?” She positioned some yarn around a crochet hook. Sapphira’s mother had been trying to teach her to crochet, but it wasn’t going well. Saphhira’s mom had promised she’d be good at it in no time, so Eleanor kept practicing.

Winding yarn around her finger, Eleanor focused hard on the stitches. She thought at one point she heard someone yelling, but she ignored it. There were often fights and screaming matches between couples throughout the commune. It never amounted to much, and as her father always said, it was best not to crowd someone else’s space.

But just as she thought things were calming down, there were additional voices. Loud, obnoxious voices. Name-calling and loud comments edged with hysteria caused Eleanor to forget her craft. She ran to the window and pressed her nose to the smudged and dirty glass.

They were back.

She could see the police cars from here; this time there were four of them. “Dad!” she called, then realized her father was still at his makeshift office.

“Mom, you’d better get in here!” Eleanor yelled.

Her mother came in from the back room and wiped her wet hands on her long patchwork skirt. She wore a halter top that was more revealing than concealing and a headband to hold her hair in place.

“What’s the buzz?”

“Cops are back,” Eleanor said, then watched her mother’s face in order to gauge how critical this turn of events might be.

Her mother cursed softly. “I’d better hide my stash in case they want to search the place.” She turned to go, but Eleanor couldn’t help reaching out for her.

“Mom, will they try to . . . will they . . . take us? Will they take more people?” Her mother frowned and pulled away.

“I don’t know, Eleanor. Now keep it down. Your brothers are sleeping, and you don’t want to get them all stirred up. Stay here and keep the lights off.” She leaned over and blew out the lamp Eleanor had been using. “I mean it. Keep it off.”

Her mother’s orders did nothing to put Eleanor’s mind at ease. In fact, they had the opposite effect. Her mother sounded frightened.

Eleanor eased back against the glass and stared into the darkness. She couldn’t be sure, but it looked like Ringo, Dwight, and Moody were all arguing with the cops. The three men were good friends of her parents, and Moody was even Sapphira’s uncle.

Eleanor knew she shouldn’t leave the house, but she couldn’t resist. She pulled on her shoes and crept out the front door. The commune was nothing more than a few shacks, tents, and trailers all congregated on a piece of land owned by one of the members’ parents. Eleanor knew this because her father had once revealed their circumstances when Eleanor had asked about land ownership. Her father was completely against owning property, as he felt that no one could really “own” a piece of land. He told Eleanor he felt that way because years ago, their ancestors had been Native Americans who roamed the land at will.

Eleanor wrinkled her nose at the smell of rotting garbage and trash. There was no trash pickup here in the middle of nowhere. Most of the time it accumulated until Eleanor’s father talked some of the men into burning it for the sake of community health. Eleanor had seen big rats running through the mess, and now as she crept along beside the piles, she feared each step, knowing that if she stepped on a mouse or other animal she’d scream for sure.

Using the debris as a shield from prying eyes, Eleanor eased in close enough to hear the conversation.

“You hippies think you can just do whatever you want. Dodge the draft, use your drugs,” one man was saying.

“Not to mention avoiding income tax,” another authoritative voice declared. “Half the vehicles here aren’t even properly tagged,” the same man added.

“We don’t have no hassles with you, man,” Moody piped up. “You got no right to be out here giving us a hard time.”

Eleanor moved in closer to better view the situation. A crowd was beginning to gather, and the tension of the confrontation was building. The sheriff and his men had big flashlights they were using as well as the headlights of their cars. It gave everything a distorted appearance. People’s faces looked harsher—more brutal. Even Moody looked like a shadowy monster. Eleanor pulled back.

“You have to pay taxes if you’re going to be a citizen of the United States of America. That’s the law.” This came from the only outsider who wasn’t in uniform.

“That’s your law, man. We don’t recognize it.” This came from Ringo.

“That’s right, dude, we don’t need your laws and your war machines. We’ve got a better way,” Moody added.

“You potheads. What would you know about war or the law?” another man questioned. “I don’t suppose I care what happens to you, but you’ve got kids here as well.”

“Our kids are cool, man. There ain’t nothing wrong with them,” Ringo protested. “They know how to love. Your kids only know how to make war and more rules, but your way is dying. Your time is over.”

“We’ll see about that.” The man in the suit stepped forward. “You’re all in violation of the tax codes. Investigations are going to commence. I will return here in the morning. Meanwhile, the sheriff and his men will see to it that you have no chance to run off and hide.”

“All we want is to live in peace,” Star announced as she joined her husband. “We just want to live in peace.”

“Yeah, you pigs need to go back to your mess in the city.”

“Yeah, get out of here,” several yelled in unison.

Eleanor trembled at the sound of the next voice.

“We all need to calm down.”

Daddy!
Would they take him? She moved toward the group, terrified that someone would see her and take her away, yet equally fearful that the officers might leave with her father and she’d never see him again.

“We’ll give the orders here,” the man in charge said as he came to stand directly in front of her father. “Who are you anyway?”

“I’m Dr. Allan Templeton.”

“A doctor? Sure you are, and I’m the mayor of Los Angeles.” The men around him chuckled.

“I am a doctor, and that fact doesn’t change just because you choose not to believe me. I did my residency in New York City; you’ll have little trouble tracking that down.”

The sheriff seemed to reconsider. “Then what are you doing out here with these drug freaks? Why have you let your hair grow down to your shoulders? Doctors make good money, but I can’t imagine that’s the case out here—unless you’re making your money illegally.”

“There’s more to life than making money,” Dad countered.

“But you need money to stay alive.”

“There are worse things than death.”

Eleanor shivered at her father’s words. What could possibly be worse than death?

“Look, mister, if you are practicing as a doctor out here, you owe taxes on every cent you make.” The man in the suit stepped closer to Eleanor’s father, as if to emphasize his words.

“I don’t take pay for my practice.”

“Then how do you exist? Goodwill doesn’t put food on the table or gas in your car.”

“Doesn’t it?”

Eleanor watched her father. His calm demeanor seemed to cut through the malice the strangers obviously felt for the commune people. She was proud of him. Proud of the way he stood up for what he believed.

“Doc, you don’t make a whole lot of sense. But I guess I shouldn’t expect you to—after all, you’re living out here. Probably fried your brain on that LSD and speed.”

Eleanor’s father kept his voice low and unexcited. “I simply mean that we work the land together, we share things, we offer help where it is needed. I don’t have much use for money.”

“Even if you work for barter, you have to pay taxes,” the man reiterated.

“I don’t believe you’re out here without funds. You have to have clothes and bedding,” the sheriff countered. “I don’t suppose medicine comes free either.”

“It does if you grow it yourself.”

“You need money for seed.”

Eleanor’s father shrugged. “We have what we need, when we need it. Look around. Do we look like we’re starving or sick?”

“You look sick all right. I can hardly stomach the stench. Don’t you people believe in taking a bath? You smell like yesterday’s garbage. And speaking of which, look at the piles around here. It’s worse than the dump. This place will be condemned as soon as the health department gets word of it. If you’re such an intelligent and educated man, why’d you allow this kind of thing?” The man didn’t wait for an answer. “Guess he’s dumber than he looks. Probably practicing some sort of voodoo hippie medicine.”

Eleanor wanted to rush forward and defend her father. He was a very smart man. Why, he’d saved several people when they’d gotten sick. Sapphira said it was from drug overdoses, but Eleanor didn’t care. Her father had been the one to save them, and that was what mattered. She started to step forward but felt someone take hold of her and pull her back. She looked up. It was Daniel, Sapphira’s father. He put his finger to his lips and Eleanor nodded.

“Sheriff, I want this entire area quartered off. Round up the people you think you must, but otherwise, just secure them and keep them from leaving. I want to bring in additional people to help us. Maybe even get some national guardsmen.”

“So they can shoot us?” someone cried out. “Like at Kent State?”

“Guess they hear the news occasionally. Probably never keep up with it though. Probably know nothing about the moon landing or that Bobby Kennedy got shot down.”

Eleanor wondered about the comments. Who was Bobby Kennedy? And had there really been some kind of moon landing? She looked up to the full moon overhead. It was too far away to fly to. Why would the man say such a thing?

“My concern is that this is another Manson family,” the sheriff said in a serious tone. “That Charles Manson and his hippies were no different than this bunch. Said they wanted to make things right in the world—so they murdered innocent people.”

Eleanor had no idea who Charles Manson was. She looked to Daniel in hopes that he might offer answers, but he merely pushed her back behind him and knelt. “Go home, Ellie. This is like really heavy stuff, and the pigs are probably gonna start something.”

“But my daddy—” Ellie tried to protest, but Daniel again put his hand to her mouth. His dark brown eyes were pleading with her.

“Go home before they see you. Hide out. Go now.” He turned her toward home.

“We aren’t the killers, man. You are,” someone challenged. “You with your guns and your big important titles.”

Eleanor reluctantly headed toward the house, but her confusion was only mounting at the accusations hurled back and forth by the adults. At the sound of her father’s voice, she stopped and turned. She couldn’t see him, but there was comfort just in hearing his voice.

“We need to go back to our houses and deal with this in the morning. The daylight will show these men that we’re doing nothing wrong.”

“You’d best listen to the doc. I’m staking my men at the opening of this field. You’re not to leave the premises.”

“Stupid pigs.” Eleanor turned back to find her mother had joined her. “They won’t be happy until they make us like them.”

“Are they going to hurt Daddy?” Eleanor asked.

Her mother never even looked at her. “If they get the chance—they’ll hurt us all.”

Eleanor paced through the small house until well after midnight. Her mother and father were still talking with the others about the situation. The cops had pulled back to barricade the long road that led into the grassy field where the commune had been living. Eleanor felt her heart pounding rapidly and wished with all her might that she could turn back the hands of time to the days before the first drug raid.