Ashley had no intention of taking any city buses. A city block was about the distance from the Main Lobby to the Recreation Center, and it meant nothing to her. Her feet ate up several such blocks while she was still pondering the humor — and the sadness — in her courier mission. She found herself in Pioneer Square.
Quaint restaurants and interesting shops, most not yet open, caught her attention for awhile, but the waterfront, just a few short blocks away, was calling to her. She kept walking.
An old-fashioned streetcar ran along the waterfront, and she was almost tempted to ride, but the docks and piers, full of sea gulls and the smell of salt and fish, were just too interesting to rush past.
A huge ferry was preparing to leave for Alaska, and smaller ones for points within Puget Sound. Fish markets and fish restaurants abounded, and soon the waterfront became a park as she approached the Seattle Aquarium.
Nearby shops full of interesting things from the sea and from many far-away lands kept her busy until the Aquarium opened.
She paid her admission with her own money and spent the next two and a half hours gazing at all kinds of fish, sea animals that looked more like plants, windows full of salmon that were sometimes all around her and even right over her head, and plenty of dolphins and seals and other mammals. It was Ashley’s first encounter with the creatures of the sea. She found it hard to leave, but finally, with a fond glance back, tore herself away from the last
exhibit and walked through the exit door.
As noon approached, Ashley found an interesting seafood sampler at one of the outdoor fish restaurants, and munched on it while perched on a low wall that looked toward the bay. She pondered the paradoxical fact that she was alone in a strange city, but didn’t at all feel alone. A freckled boy was even then preparing for his dance competition only a mile or so away, and he would be looking for her. She realized that she wanted to find a way to let him know she was there before it started. Flowers? Maybe.
Other things contributed to her not feeling alone. If she called Lyceum and needed help, one or more members would be there in minutes. If she needed even more help, whole teams would come up from Portland, with helicopters if necessary. They were trusting her with hundreds of dollars in cash and a debit card with which she could get thousands. And they had entrusted to her a microfiche that could effect the lives of seventeen million people. She had almost blown it in a silly little town while stretching her legs, but the U.N. symbol on her courier bracelet and her Lyceum I.D. book had saved her. No, putting all those things together, Ashley had no reason to feel alone.
She looked around. Not far away a young man, maybe sixteen years old, sat on a bench with his face in his hands. He looked alone. She wondered why. Did he have friends? Parents? A job? A home? She didn’t know. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps she should go talk to him, buy him lunch or something. Then she reminded herself that every city, even every town, was full of people with problems. She wasn’t ready to start solving all of them all by herself.
The young man got up from the bench, tossed a rock into the bay, and then left, walking south along the waterfront. Ashley wondered what lay ahead for him. And she wondered how Andrei Kan would fare with whatever he had to do with the microfiche.
Her seafood and her thoughts finished, Ashley ascended many flights of steps to the Pike Place Market, where she wandered amongst the shops and stalls for awhile, but made only one purchase. In a flower and candy shop, she found a combination box that contained an assortment of fine chocolate and nut candies and a single red rose, all visible through the box’s plastic window,
and the whole thing surrounded by a pink ribbon and bow. She selected a card to go with it that depicted both male and female ballet dancers, and wrote her simple message before leaving the shop.
Dear Tim,
I’m here!
Love,
Ashley
She wrote his name on the envelope, and the shopkeeper attached it to the bow for her.
The few blocks of downtown Seattle streets that separated Ashley from the monorail terminal were quickly left behind. The monorail was old and slow, but it was not attempting to cover any great distance. Ten minutes later Ashley stepped onto the grounds of the Seattle Center, candies and rose carried carefully under her arm.
The Space Needle, Seattle’s most famous building, made Ashley crane her neck. One elevator car was rising, another coming down. She approached the ticket booth and looked at the hours and prices, and a thought came to her. In a sense, this was her territory, and Tim was her guest. She should treat him to something special, she decided. Since Lyceum was paying for her transportation, she had plenty of money of her own left over. She memorized the hours of the restaurant at the top of the Space Needle. That’s where she wanted to take Tim out to eat if she had the chance.
For the next hour Ashley explored the Seattle Center, wandering through exhibits and sitting by roaring fountains. She remembered reading that a World’s Fair had been there once, long ago. She had never been to a World’s Fair, and wondered where and when the next one would be. Finally, as two o’clock was passing, she approached the Coliseum.
The schedule board at the ticket office confirmed that the Junior National Ballet Competitions would begin at three, with the doors opening at 2:30. She began to wander around the outside of the huge building, hoping to find a way to deliver her gift.
At the far back of the massive building, she came to a parking lot where a
couple of dozen buses were parked. Finding a gap in the hedge that surrounded it, she began to wander amongst the buses, looking for one from New Orleans. They were from all over the country: Florida, New Hampshire, Texas, Kansas, and many other states. Then she stopped. Its destination display just said Chartered, but the dusty license plate told her what she needed to know: Louisiana. Ashley grinned.
Just then a lady stepped out of the bus carrying a heavy box. She dropped it with a huff onto another box that was already sitting on the ground beside the door.
“Can I help you carry those?” Ashley said.
The lady looked at her. “Now, why would you want to help me carry these boxes? Are you trying to con a ride somewhere?”
“Nope. I’m trying to figure out how to get this candy and rose to Tim Murphy before the competition starts so he’ll know I’m here.”
“Ohhh. Are you... the girl he met over in France? Amy?”
“Luxemburg and France. Ashley.”
“That’s right! Ashley. You mean he doesn’t know you were coming?”
“He knew I was going to try and come. But he doesn’t know if I made it.”
“Well, Ashley, these are pretty heavy...”
“I’m a gymnast. I do fifty push-ups every day, twenty in the morning, and thirty during conditioning at the end of training time.”
“Well, then. If you’ll carry one of these, I’ll give you a performer’s pass and you can deliver the gift yourself. Tim has been a much happier boy since meeting you, and his dancing has really improved as well. He’s one of our strongest male dancers now. I’m Elizabeth de Lisle, Tim’s teacher.”
“Ashley Marie Riddle from Lyceum in Oregon.”
“Okay, Ashley Marie, let’s get this gear inside!”
She locked the bus door while Ashley placed her gift on top of one of the boxes and lifted it. The dance teacher pulled an extra pass out of her pocket, stuck it onto Ashley’s blouse, and lifted the other box. They carried their burdens to the performer’s entrance at the back of the building where a security guard glanced at their passes.
“You can’t talk to Tim for more than a minute. We have a lot of practice and costume work to do in the next half hour,” the teacher said as they made
their way along an echoing corridor.”
“I understand. Let me know if I can help with anything else.”
“Thank you, Ashley. I think we’re all set now. Here’s our practice room.”
They entered a concrete room where the New Orleans Dance Academy was preparing for the competition. All the dancers were either stretching or working on costumes. Ashley set the heavy box down where the teacher indicated.
“Tim!” the teacher called.
He stopped stretching and looked. Suddenly his eyes got big and his face lit up. “Ashley!” he said, running over. He took her in his arms, and she held him just as tightly. “I was hoping I’d somehow find out if you made it. I knew I’d dance better if you were in the audience.”
Ashley’s eyes were wet. “It would have taken a lot to stop me from getting here. I brought you something!”
Without completely letting go of him, she reached down and picked up her gift box.
He took the box in shaking hands. He said nothing, but kissed her several times.
“Time to get dressed, Tim,” his teacher said.
“Wait for me after?” he said.
“I have a pass, so I’ll meet you here!” She kissed him one more time, and then he reluctantly went over to the costume boxes. Ashley slipped off her coat and pack, pulled out her purse, and piled the rest with the company’s other coats and bags. She slipped out the door, and Tim didn’t see the tears of joy that rolled down her face as soon as she was out in the corridor.
After saving another twenty dollars by not having to pay admission, Ashley was sure she wanted to buy Tim the fanciest meal the Space Needle offered.
She just hoped she would have a chance.
She loved watching the dancers, all of them. They were all very good, and she would have had a very hard time choosing winners if she had been a judge. But even she, who had little experience in ballet, could see flaws and weaknesses, and she presumed the judges did it like they did in gymnastics —
start with a perfect score and subtract for every little mistake.
But she had eyes especially for Tim. While his company was performing, she saw only one dancer, her beloved. He was very good, and he seemed to have a special energy, a special glow that most of the others didn’t. Perhaps none of the others had just received candy and a red rose...
The judges decreed a company from Colorado as fifth place, and New Hampshire as fourth. Ashley clapped for both. But when they announced third place, she almost did handsprings right there in the bleachers.
“...from New Orleans, Louisiana, ladies and gentlemen, the New Orleans Dance Academy!”
The company came out and took their bows, and Ashley was on her feet the whole time. She continued clapping for second and first places, but she was still looking at Tim, standing not too far from his teacher who held the third place trophy.
Those companies who had not placed came out and bowed, and the trophy holders bowed again. Then the first place winners did a special dance presentation, after which the audience finally began to leave. Ashley dashed for the doorway to the preparation rooms, stopped to let a guard glance at her pass, and ran the rest of the way.
Tim was all dressed in street clothes when she flew into his arms.
“Congratulations!”
“That’s the very best our company has ever done!” he said with pride. “We get to go to the world competitions next spring in Germany!”
“Fantastic!” Ashley said.
For the next half hour, Ashley helped Tim to carry boxes and bags out to the company’s chartered bus. When they had carried out everything they could find, he approached his teacher.
“Mrs. de Lisle, is there anything else I can do before we go?”
“That’s right, you’re staying with your grandmother.” She looked around.
“That looks like everything, except personal stuff. Thank you for the help, and you also, Ashley. Be at the motel by noon tomorrow, or you’ll be walking home!” she said with a smile.
“Bye, all!” Tim said to the whole room.
“Bye, Tim! Good dancing!”
“See ya, Tim!”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” another guy said.
Tim
laughed.
He got his clothing bag and his gift box and Ashley picked up her coat and travel pack. As soon as they were out in the corridor, he spoke in a soft voice.
“Follow me closely and don’t say anything.”
He led her in an unexpected direction, deeper into the corridors and then up a narrow, dimly lit ramp. Ashley was excited, enjoying the mystery and realizing she wanted to completely entrust to him the outcome of their covert journey. It was the first time in her life she had experienced the joy of complete trust and surrender.
They slipped through a little door, and Ashley saw that they were approaching the main floor of the Coliseum again, and were currently underneath the tiers of seats from which the audience was departing. It was a minor entrance for performers and staff only, and ahead of them a rope stretched across to keep spectators from wandering that way from the main floor.
Ashley glanced to her left. Under the tiers of seats were stored all kinds of equipment, from vaulting horses to cages for circus animals. Tim pulled her to the right.
That side was stacked with all manner of mats and crash pads — rolled, folded, and just plain piled. In about the middle of the seating tier was a place where thick foam bags had been stacked in two piles, but between them was a space about a yard wide where only a few thin mats lay. Tim led Ashley into that little recess and sat down.
He spoke in a whisper. “I had time to explore. Do you like it?”
Ashley just smiled, and then leaned forward and kissed him. Her heart was pounding.
It wasn’t long before most of the spectators and performers had cleared out and the Coliseum became very quiet. Tim put his finger to his lips to request silence. They could hear one person walking, sometimes on the wooden main floor, sometimes in a concrete corridor. Various sets of lights went out one by one. A few minutes later a strong flashlight beam pierced the gloom underneath the tier of seats where the two youth waited in stillness and silence. From the point of view of the security guard, the two piles of foam
bags appeared to be side by side. He passed on.
About ten minutes later they heard an outer door close for the last time.
They sat in silence for awhile just to be sure. No other sound came to them, except the tiny creakings that all buildings make when the wind blows or the temperature changes. Outside, the sun was setting, and its orange glow streamed into the coliseum through high windows and skylights.
“Aren’t there alarms?” Ashley whispered.
“Just infra-red motion sensors in the large rooms and corridors. None under here, and we can get to a prep room with showers and everything without passing any of them!”
Ashley began to feel many feelings at once. She was alone with the boy she loved, and it appeared they would be alone until the following morning. He had to meet his dance company at a nearby motel at noon, and she had to catch a commuter train for Portland an hour after that. Their freedom, for that one night, as long as they didn’t set off any alarms, appeared to be complete.
But Ashley Riddle of Rapid City, South Dakota had never been alone, with such freedom, with a boy before. She knew very well what they could do together. She wanted to do all those things, and maybe some that only he could think of. And she was trembling.
He reached over to touch her hand with his, and she could feel that he was trembling too. She looked at his face. In the dim light that managed to penetrate to their little space, she could only see his basic features. With the hand that wasn’t holding his, she reached up and touched his cheeks, the ridges around his eyes, his nose.
“This is the first time I’ve ever been alone with a girl, and I’m glad it’s with you,” he said in a soft voice.
“This is my first time, too,” she said. “I love you, Tim. Whatever we do tonight, it’s okay with me.”
Those were the last words they spoke for a few minutes.
“Is everything okay with you so far?” he asked her, his voice shaking a little.
“Everything is perfect!” Ashley said. “But I have something I want to show you.” She groped for her purse and pulled out the little strip of pills Brenda
had given her. “When I left Lyceum, I was sure I wanted to take one of these, so I’d be, you know, protected. Now... I almost wish... I didn’t have to. What do you think?”
It was almost completely dark under the tier of seats now — only exit signs and a few other security lights were on in the building, and a little bit of light filtered in through the high windows from outside lights. Tim looked at the barely-seen shadow before him that was his beloved and realized what she was saying. Maybe he could have her as more than a lover if he wanted right now — maybe he could have her as his mate, to bare his child. A part of him wanted that more than anything else in the world, and craved to just take her in his arms and not worry about some stupid pill.
But a part of him was still capable of realizing what that would bring for both of them. It would mean their educations would be much harder to continue. It would end her gymnastics, and probably his dancing, as he would have to somehow support his little family. With an effort of will, he took the strip of pills from her, popped one out of its plastic, and placed it in her mouth.
“I feel the same way, but it wouldn’t be the best thing for either you or me right now. Someday I hope it will be.”
Ashley swallowed the pill. She was glad he had had the courage to make that decision. She knew her momentary temptation had been foolish, and she was surprised she had even entertained it. It was the not the first surprise she was destined to have that night.
Giggles and gasps were the only sounds they needed as trembling hands slowly removed each other’s articles of clothing, one by one, alternating as if each was having equal luck at that ancient game of chance. There was no more hesitation, no more wondering if the other would be willing. With the contraception issue out of the way, they both knew what was coming, and they were both ready and anxious. Last of all they each removed the other’s broken coin necklace, and set them side by side, for the first time since they were purchased, out of the way.
What seemed like hours later, Ashley awoke and thoughts came fluttering back. She had two or three carrots and a couple of cartons of juice with her,
and as far as she knew, Tim had only the box of candy she had given him.
There were restaurants nearby, but they couldn’t get to any of them until someone turned off the alarms the following morning. The thought made her chuckle.
Tim raised his head and looked at her. “A penny for your thoughts.”
“Dinner. Did you bring anything?”
A look of shame crossed his face. “I’m sorry. I was so excited about finding this place, and then I was so busy dancing, that I forgot.”
“That’s okay! You have candy, and I have carrots and juice!”
He laughed. “I love you more than life itself, Ashley Riddle. You have just made my deepest and wildest dreams come true.”
“And you have done the same for me, Tim Murphy.”
They kissed long, savoring the memory that was still very vivid for both of them.
Ashley giggled. “I can’t see a thing. Let’s go back to the walkway. There’s a little light there, and we’ll still be safe from the alarm sensors, won’t we?”
“Yes. Just don’t wander anywhere without me. I’ve memorized where they all are.”
“I have no intention of going more than a few inches from you all night long, except maybe to use the toilet!”
He
laughed.
They felt for their belongings, and a minute later had transferred everything to the walkway between the sections of seating tiers where there was a tiny bit of light filtering in. Tim grabbed a small mat for them to sit on, and they spread out their feast. Ashley set a carton of juice and a carrot before Tim, and he divided the box of candies evenly. “Are roses edible?” he asked.
Ashley laughed. “I’m not that hungry. More than anything I’d like a drink of water.”
Tim stood, offered his hand, and guided her back down the ramp, around a corner, and through a swinging door. Once inside, he groped for the light switch and finally found it.
They were in a preparation room that had restrooms with showers. They looked at each other, and both blushed with embarrassment. Being naked together in the dark was one thing. Now they were naked together under
bright room lights. A moment later, they laughed and embraced.
Ashley took a long, cold drink and washed her face. She felt intensely alive, and at the same time deeply content, like at a gymnastics meet at which she had done her best and earned an appropriate ribbon or medal. They returned to their feast hand in hand.
The two young lovers laughed and talked as they slowly ate their strange meal. They talked about their times together in New York and Luxemburg and France, about things that had happened to them since, and about arriving in Seattle. Ashley told him about the courier mission she had just completed, and about the embarrassed policemen in Castle Rock. He laughed. But he kept to himself the amazement he felt at the tasks with which Ashley was being entrusted.
Their meal finished, they took everything back to the safety of their hiding place. After several yawns escaped each of them, they laid down side by side.
With his longer body curled around hers, they pulled her large coat over them both, and before long they both fell into a deep sleep.
The sound of floor buffers and men talking woke them. They rubbed their eyes and kissed. Then Tim led them back the way they had come. They were almost to the door to the rear parking lot, which stood open, when a sharp voice caught them.
“Hey! You kids! What are you doing here?”
They turned and saw the security guard. Still hand in hand, they walked toward him.
“I was a dancer here yesterday, and I forgot to take my bag home, so I was just getting it,” Tim said, digging in his pocket and pulling out a crumpled performer’s pass.
“I’m just tagging along,” Ashley said, touching the card that was still stuck to her blouse.”
“Okay. Call the office first next time.”
“We will,” they both said.
As soon as they were out the door, Ashley smiled, realizing that neither of them had lied to the security guard. Both had spoken nothing but the truth, even if it had not been the whole truth. But the whole truth was not
something they could share with others.
They wandered around the Seattle Center, stopping many times to embrace and kiss. Few people were about at that hour. Ashley found a clock
— it was 8:20. She steered Tim toward the Space Needle.
“Where are we going?”
“To breakfast. In the sky. On me.”
She paid the elevator fare, and they were lifted high above most other buildings of the city. They had no problem getting a window table, and both were hungry after their special night together. Ashley surprised herself by ordering a fruit salad, a cheese and vegetable omelet, and a side of ham. Both were delighted to find that the top of the Space Needle slowly turned, eventually giving them a view in all directions.
After breakfast, they spent some time on the observation deck, and then returned to the ground and just wandered wherever their feet took them, sometimes within the Seattle Center, sometimes in nearby neighborhoods.
They would stop and hold each other every few minutes, for no definite reason other than because it had been more than a minute since they had last done so. They arrived at the motel where Tim’s dance company was staying with only minutes to spare. The others were already getting on the big cross-country bus.
Ashley put her arms around him and started crying. He was crying too, but silently. They had both just been to the mountain’s peak, and now they had to return to the canyon’s bottom. It was almost more than they could stand.
“I’m going to miss you so much!” she said when she finally worked up the courage to look at him.
“That makes two of us,” he said through his tears. “Next time I will come to you. I promise. I love you, Ashley.”
“I love you, Tim.”
They kissed one last time, and he ran to the bus. It didn’t leave for several more minutes, but he had to run, because that was when he had enough courage to do it, and if he hadn’t taken that opportunity, he might never have left Ashley standing there alone on the sidewalk.
Ashley stood there until the bus was out of sight, and then she stood there for many more minutes. Finally she wandered. Eventually she came to downtown Seattle, saw a clock, and realized that her train had already left.
She called Lyceum, and told them she wouldn’t be able to get back in time for her kitchen shift. After a minute at the computer, the lady in the office said that Sister Jennifer would be covering it, and that Ashley could pay her back in whatever way was comfortable for the two of them.
Ashley walked slowly, sometimes by the waterfront, sometimes in the city streets above. She now knew a little better how the young man who had sat with his face in his hands might have felt. Had he just said good-bye to someone he loved? She would never know. She picked up a rock and threw it into the bay. It felt good.
Ashley took the evening high-speed commuter train back to Portland, and caught the last van to Lyceum, arriving at about 8:30. She stopped in the office, did her mission and expense reports, and left a message for Sister Jennifer. Then she went straight to the Recreation Center, changed into a bathing suit that she kept in her locker, and approached the hot pool. She was glad only one other person was there.
Almost as soon as she sat down in the relaxing water, she started talking about what had happened, and as she neared the end of her story her words changed into tears. Liberty put her arm around her twelve-year-old friend.
She understood.
September 25th
Dear Adiv,
You didn’t tell me that being promised to a boy would bring me so much happiness and so much sadness, all at the same time. But that’s okay. Now that I know about the happiness and the sadness, I’m still glad I did it.
Thank you for helping us to realize that we could love each other without being together all the time.
I hope everything is good with your promise. I hope I can meet your girlfriend someday. I’m still learning French better and better. I don’t know yet what language I want to learn next. If you’re ever near Portland,
Oregon, you’re welcome to stop and visit.
Your friend,
Ashley Riddle
Chapter 14: Good Friends and a Valuable Cargo Right after dinner on Friday, Shawn packed his duffel bag with enough clothes for two nights in motels and two days in art galleries. He knew that Ashley was going to Seattle that weekend to see her boyfriend, and he also knew that every time Ashley was gone, he started feeling lonely — not because he had deep feeling for the young gymnast, he reminded himself, but because her absence interrupted their friendship circle and left him thinking about Liberty.
And yet he couldn’t run into Liberty that weekend, because he too would be out of town. Realizing that made him feel better. As soon as he was done packing, he hurried to the Gallery, where Sarah and Sister Rachael were loading cartons and boxes onto a cart.
Rachael handed him the cash envelope for which he would be responsible, and asked him to verify the contents. He worked his way through the ten thousand dollars slowly and carefully, but as he did so, he became aware of something curious.
As Sarah brought various size cartons out of the Gallery workroom, she would glance at Sister Rachael, who was assembling some sculpture packing supplies. Sometimes she would then proceed to place all of what she was carrying on the cart, sometimes only part of her load, and sometime she would do an about-face and take them all back to the workroom. Shawn watched for nods or other signals, but couldn’t see any. Several times Sarah laughed as if at a joke, though no one had spoken.
By half past six they had their supplies selected and Shawn had completed his cash count. They made their way to a fairly large van in the parking lot.
As Rachael slid the side door open, Shawn could see that it retained only its front row of seats, the back being completely empty for cargo. They soon had all their cartons and luggage loaded, and Sarah proceeded to create herself a place to sit in the back amongst the boxes and bags underneath a small light mounted on the van’s inside wall. As soon as they were on the road, Shawn saw why: she was about half-way through a thick paperback novel, and it obviously was holding her attention. He remembered from his Childcare class that most kids were just learning to read at nine or ten. But this wasn’t just any nine-year-old — this was Sarah, Lyceum’s youngest member, he reminded himself.
A slightly orange but mostly gray sunset light was fading from the sky as they reached the main highway out of Portland and began to climb over the Cascades. Shawn noticed that Sister Rachael was in a thoughtful mood as she drove, so he didn’t interrupt her with idle conversation.
“We’ve received three new veiled requests for our position on nuclear disarmament,” she said, as if knowing his thoughts. “I promised Brother Felix I’d ponder them during the weekend, so he and I can sit down and draft responses on Monday. So I’m pondering them, for all the good it’ll do.
Sometimes it seems like it doesn’t matter what you say — they’ll still twist it to their own purposes. Hmm. Maybe we should just disarm them by pre-twisting our answers.”
Shawn laughed. “You mean, tell them what they want to hear?”
“Sort of. At least tell them that we know what it is they want to hear, and if they want us to say that, they can stick it — all in polished, politically correct language, of course.”
Shawn chuckled, and then glanced back at Sarah. She was still absorbed in her book. Rachael fell silent again. Shawn watched the pine and fir trees appear in the headlights, and then disappear back into the darkness.
Eventually his mind wandered.
He wondered what Ashley and her boyfriend would be doing that weekend. Probably eating fish and salads and walking the waterfront park holding hands. Not that he, Shawn Mitchell, would have been allowed to go
somewhere with a girl at twelve, or fourteen... or sixteen... or even, he realized with a little pain, at eighteen. He, Shawn Mitchell, had silly little birthday parties put on by his church youth group. He, Shawn Mitchell, had been kissed on the cheek once at age seventeen, and even that he suspected of being arranged by his father.
He thought of Liberty. He knew she liked Jason, and that several of the other young guys at Lyceum would gladly trade places with him. But it seemed that being the first boy there to buy her ice cream, and otherwise befriend her, should count for something. But, he thought with a sigh, it didn’t.
Sister Rachael continued to ponder disarmament politics, Sarah went on reading, and Shawn nursed the lonely feelings inside himself as they continued their climb over the mountains.
But as soon as they reached the top of the pass, everyone’s mood seemed to change all at the same time. Sarah finished a chapter, and with a noise of disagreement about the course of the plot, closed her book and climbed over the front seat, plopping down beside Shawn. Rachael seemed to be done pondering politics, and at Sarah’s initiation, they were soon playing a game of Twenty Questions. It was not, Shawn soon learned, quite like the silly, light games he had occasionally played at church youth group meetings. The words that both Sarah and Rachael selected were sophisticated and obscure. He had never before heard of a decoction, a chimera, or a dendrite, but they ended the first three games laughing about cups of strong tea, mythological lion/goat/dragon monsters, and nerve cell receptor fibers. But not only were their target words difficult, their search questions cut like razors, and control of the game changed with every word. Shawn had to really put his mind into high gear to keep up with them.
When he finally guessed one of their words and earned himself a turn, he thought he would stump them with a word out of his Lab Procedures class, but to his embarrassment, Sarah had it on guess number seventeen.
But, as Shawn had already experienced in other situations, losing a game being played with other Lyceum members never carried a stigma, unless one placed it there oneself. He laughed and went on enjoying the game.
Eventually he did stump both of them — with religious terms.
The trio of art hunters stopped for evening snacks in the heart of the Warm Springs Indian Nation, and then continued on into the irrigated farmlands of eastern Oregon. Twenty Questions had run its course, but they chatted about the Gallery and the Lyceum Collection, and Sister Rachael described two upcoming shows that she especially wanted to complement with some works from unknown artists. She went on to explain that the galleries in the little towns they would be visiting were almost all closing at the end of September, as wintertime tourist traffic in that area was almost non-existent. And, with the end of their sales year approaching, they were often inclined to accept any reasonable offer.
Sarah told Shawn about the re-created Old West town of Shaniko, which she had visited before and obviously enjoyed. She described stage coach rides and craft shops, riding stables and the old schoolhouse. She mentioned the Shaniko Hotel, but didn’t want to say any more as it was their first night’s stop and she didn’t want to spoil the fun for Shawn.
“Remember, we won’t have time for much sight-seeing on this trip,”
Rachael reminded them. “You two could drive back over sometime to enjoy the tourist attractions when you have more time.”
“That would be fun!” Sarah said, glancing at Shawn with her deep blue eyes. “Maybe next summer?”
“Sure!” Shawn responded quickly, but in reality he felt a little confused.
He had never before allowed himself to think of Sarah as some kind of real companion, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to do so now. She was just a little kid who was his friend. Also, the implied stability of their friendship felt a little strange. She was proposing they do something eight or nine months in the future. In Shawn’s experience, young people didn’t make plans like that.
There was too much of a chance that one or the other would move, change schools, or just that their friendship wouldn’t last long enough. Planning that far into the future didn’t feel bad to him, just a little... uncomfortable.
He had plenty of time to ponder all these things as both of his fellow art buyers had fallen silent again. In the dim glow of the van’s instrument panel, he could see Sarah sitting there next to him. Actually, because the van’s engine cover made it difficult for anyone to sit in the exact middle of the front
seat, she was sitting close beside him. He hadn’t noticed it before, and felt a little uneasy that they had been sitting like that through all those games of Twenty Questions and another hour of conversation.
If there had been any way for Shawn to gracefully extract himself from the current situation, he might have. But there was none. He started to become aware of details about his young friend that he had never paid attention to before. Her blond hair was very finely textured and straight. The scar tissue on the right side of her face and neck, visible because she had her hair pulled back in barrettes, was not actually as rough as it looked from farther away, just darker in color. And she carried a faint aroma of strawberries. The overall image was very different than the one Liberty presented to the world: younger, of course, but also somehow lighter and more cheerful, a quiet cheerfulness, as opposed to Liberty’s worldly happiness, or even Ashley’s bubbling, bouncing, high-energy personality.
“There it is!” Sarah suddenly said in an excited voice, pointing. “There’s the fueling station that has watering troughs and bales of hay! And there’s the Hotel!”
They entered the small tourist town and drove slowly past craft and souvenir shops, restaurants, a museum, and wooden signs pointing to numerous attractions down various other streets. As it was nearly ten o’clock, everything was closed except the two story hotel at the end of the first block.
Rachael parked the van in front of one of the hotel’s hitching posts and they all clamored out, grabbing their luggage as they went.
The interior of the building was faithfully decorated in the somewhat Victorian, somewhat rustic colors and patterns of the late nineteenth century, and yet included a televideo booth, a bank access machine, and other modern conveniences. Shawn wandered all around the room, looking at the many carved wood moldings, feeling the dark red velvet that abounded, peeking into the numerous beveled glass cases that displayed all sorts of fine artifacts of the era. Sarah walked beside him, a smirk on her face.
“Isn’t it neat!” she said when she could contain herself no longer.
“Beautiful! I almost expect Wyatt Earp to walk in!”
Sarah giggled. They could hear Rachael at the front desk making their room arrangements with the clerk who sounded like he was straight out of the
Old West himself, so they strolled into another part of the lobby where there were period couches and old books and magazines to look at. Only two other people were there.
“What’s the food like?” Shawn asked.
“Good. And they serve tons and tons of it! We get to eat breakfast here tomorrow. Rachael’s all done at the desk, and the man is ready to show us the room.”
“How did you know?” Shawn asked. They had been facing a display case, and he hadn’t heard a word from the direction of the front desk in the last minute.
Sarah just smiled, took his hand, and led him toward the stairs, where they met Rachael and the hotel clerk.
“You folks are gonna love this here room!” he said in an accent that was imported from Texas. “Tha-ree big beds, an’ a view a’ Main Street! The Sage Brush Room is open ‘til two...”
“We need to make an early start tomorrow. You have us down for breakfast at seven?”
“I’ll make double sure we have a table ‘zerved for you!”
He unlocked the room’s door with an old fashioned key and gestured for them to enter. It was decorated in the same period as the entire town, and was simple but comfortable enough.
“I get the biggest bed!” Sarah cried, diving onto it.
“Hah!” Rachael said. “This is fine,” she said to the clerk, and handed him a tip.
“Thank’ee, ma’am! I’ll get that break’ust table set aside rat now. You folks just rang if you need ‘nything!”
As Rachael booted Sarah off the largest bed and they all started getting settled, Shawn began to feel uncomfortable. He had never shared a hotel room with anyone but his parents. But he also realized that the expense of a separate room for him would have been a little silly. With some effort, he had gotten used to people being in bath robes in his residence hall at Lyceum, and he hoped Rachael and Sarah would follow the same custom here.
To his relief, they did. As he lay in his bed an hour later, listening to the faint sounds of honky-tonk piano music filtering out of the Sage Brush Room,
he thought about how much like family Lyceum members always treated each other, no matter what they were doing. He remembered all the hospitality he received on his trip across the country. And he remembered his first visit to Lyceum, and how the very same little girl, who was now laying on the next bed reading her book, had welcomed him and his parents out of the rain. He fell asleep wondering what made Lyceum people so different from everyone else who would have feared the strangers in the darkness, put out the CLOSED
sign, locked the door...
Shawn woke a little after six the next morning. Someone was showering in the bathroom, and a moment later Sarah came in the door wearing a cornet woven of sage and grasses and dried flowers. She sat on her bed, which looked like it hadn’t been slept in, and removed her rustic headgear.
“Do you like it?” she said, offering it to him for inspection.
Shawn took the delicate creation in his hands and almost couldn’t believe his eyes. It was actually an endless circular braid of six or eight strands, with leaves and flowers poking out at many places. “You made this?”
“Yep! From about two to four o’clock. Found a little garden of weeds behind the museum, and the moon was almost half full!”
Shawn could imagine Sarah sitting there in the moonlight, in the middle of the night, braiding dried flowers in a weed patch, while a police car cruised the streets looking for anyone not tucked into their beds. All Shawn could do was smile. He had fallen asleep wondering why Lyceum people weren’t as motivated by fear as other people seemed to be. He didn’t know why, but Sarah sure was a good example of it.
“It
is
really beautiful!” he said handing it back.
“It’s for you!” she said, hopping up and placing it on his head. “King Shawn!”
They both laughed at the silliness of the moment. Just then Rachael emerged from the bathroom in her robe. “Who’s next?”
By seven they were all showered and packed and heading for the hotel’s restaurant. It did indeed serve tasty and hearty breakfasts, and as they ate, Rachael went over her lists of the subjects, media, and styles she wanted them
to especially watch for. Before eight o’clock arrived, they had their luggage back in the van and their clipboards in hand, waiting for the galleries to open.
“Sarah, will you take the small one there at the end of the street? It has stained glass stuff too. Watch for anything special. Shawn, across the street over there is yours. It looks like it’s opening up now. All of them will take our debit card, so just get ready and I’ll be around to finalize your lists as soon as I can. I’d like to be on the road by nine.”
Sarah walked slowly to her assigned gallery, window-shopping along the way. She arrived just as the door was being unlocked.
“Well, good morning, little girl! Are you here with your parents?” a large lady said.
“No, just my friends.”
“Normally we don’t let children in the store without their parents...”
“I’m not a child today. I’m a buyer,” she said confidently and pulled a pamphlet about the Lyceum Gallery from under her note pad on her clipboard and handed it to the lady.
“Well... just don’t touch anything!”
“I
promise.”
Sarah started by scanning the stained glass works, aware that the ample lady was watching her every move. It was not a new situation for Sarah, and she knew how to handle it gracefully. Without showing her dislike for the lady, she noted the names, numbers, and asking prices of two unique and interesting works, and then turned her attention to the paintings and drawings.
Sarah could hardly believe her eyes. In the year she had been helping Sister Rachael on her art buying trips, she had always been careful to only list items that she was sure her mentor would like. She felt she was still being just as careful, but found herself writing down every third or forth painting and drawing she came to. It was an art buyer’s feast, and even though the stained glass was high priced, the oils and acrylics and pastels and charcoals were less than most signed prints in Portland galleries. She kept writing, hoping Rachael wouldn’t have to spend too much time trimming her list.
“Um, little girl, I just can’t believe you plan to buy all those works you are listing!”
“I can’t believe it either!” Sarah said in a genuinely astonished voice.
“Where did you get all this good stuff? You have a couple of impressionistic acrylic artists who should definitely be showing in Portland, only one of whom I’ve heard of, and this surrealist who works in both pastels and oils is completely unknown. If I did want to get several of your works, can you offer me a volume discount?”
The clerk was at a loss for words. She could see that there were a good six or seven items on Sarah’s list. “Well, um, perhaps five percent on purchases over a thousand dollars...”
“And over two thousand?”
The lady was almost beginning to salivate. “Oh, let’s say at least seven percent. No, eight.”
Sarah wrote down the discount levels for Rachael to take into account.
“Your stained glass is produced locally, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Right here in Shaniko!”
Sarah guessed that it was made by one or more of the lady’s relatives.
“There are a couple of works I definitely want, but some of the rest is very interesting... not for our Gallery, but for general decoration. The prices are a little steep, though...”
“Well, on the stained glass I can do better. Let’s say ten percent on any amount over five hundred dollars.”
Sarah noted that. The two items she had already listed came to nearly that much. She began a secondary list of interesting glass items, including a couple of light fixtures that were just begging to be installed in the Lyceum Lodge.
The door opened and Rachael and Shawn entered. “I hope you had better luck than either of us,” Rachael said, accepting Sarah’s clipboard.
“I think so,” was all Sarah said.
The room was deathly quiet as Rachael and Shawn looked at each item.
Sarah turned a rack of post cards. Finally the two older buyers arrived at the stained glass, and the large lady almost stopped breathing. Her year of poor sales might, just might, be ending on a more pleasant note. At last Rachael and Shawn approached the counter, but did not yet turn to the proprietor.
They looked at little Sarah standing there admiring a post card.
“Sarah, Sarah, you have done it again!” Rachael said with disappointment in her voice. The gallery owner’s face dropped. “You have been much too conservative. I had to add to your list a drawing, a small sculpture I don’t think you even saw, and a stained glass religious item that Shawn noticed.”
Sarah was holding in a smile. “Sculpture just isn’t my thing, I guess.”
“And, of course, that makes your discount information incomplete. You don’t have a discount level here for three thousand...”
“Oh, well, how does ten percent sound?” the lady said, wondering whether it would be best to change her underwear now or after the sale was completed.
“That sounds very good,” Rachael said. “And I want to arrange to meet two of these unknown artists...”
When they finally got everything packed and paid for, they were behind schedule, but Rachael thought they could make it up in the next few towns.
Sarah poked through the bag of small stained glass items, candy bars, post cards, candles, and other goodies the lady had given her. Rachael explained to Shawn, who was then driving, that they shouldn’t let the interior of the van get above seventy degrees for the remainder of the trip. He set the environmental controls appropriately.
They discussed the works they had purchased, and the artists they wanted to learn more about, as they descended into the gorge of the John Day River.
As the van climbed up the other side, Rachael described the shows she had planned for the upcoming year, and how the works of one of the newly-found artists just might fit in very well.
The towns of Fossil and Condon, each with only a single gallery, did indeed yield little compared to their earlier find, but were worth the drive. Both galleries doubled as antique shops, and Rachael picked up an item of red glass with her own funds. By the time they entered Heppner at a few minutes past noon, they were back on schedule, and the day had become clear and warm, forcing Shawn to leave the engine running while they ate lunch and picked up two very interesting paintings in the gallery.
A narrow road over a mountain and through a forest brought them to Ukiah, where it was Shawn’s turn to have some luck. A series of impressionistic space exploration scenes by a single artist almost jumped off
the wall at him, and he had trouble giving any attention to the rest of his section of the gallery. But he finally added one other item to his list, and went looking for Rachael.
He found her standing before a bronze statue of a dancing piper. It was about a meter high, well executed, and full of life. She seemed entranced by it.
“Are you going to get it?” he asked.
“I’ll know in a moment. It’s a copy of a larger one in Salzberg, Austria.”
Soon an elderly man limped toward them. “Yes, my son will be right over to build a box for it. He works at the garage, but business is slow right now, and he’s good with a hammer and nails.”
“Excellent,” Rachael said. “But we need it done by three o’clock. In the mean time, I’ll see what else my assistants have found. It looks like we’ll be spending about three thousand five hundred,” she said, glancing at Shawn’s and Sarah’s clipboards, and then looking at the man for a firm commitment on the completion of the box.
“Yes, I’m sure Frankie can have your box made by three o’clock.”
“Behind schedule again?” Sarah asked when the clerk had left.
“Not much. We’ll need a space about two feet square in the middle of the van. Would you and Shawn take care of that while I look at your finds? But remember to work with the doors closed so nothing gets hot.”
“We
will!”
It was the first time Shawn and Sarah had worked closely together at a difficult task, and juggling all the art cases around to make room for the statue, without being able to open the doors for more than a moment, was a severe challenge of cooperation and communication. But they managed it, and were finishing just as a burly man in mechanic’s overalls carted the bronze statue, well supported in a wooden framework, to the van and wrestled it into the space they had cleared. Art cases containing the other items followed, and the sliding door was quickly shut.
Rachael drove, as she wanted to get in the door of at least one of the galleries at their last stop of the day before closing time. They raced southward, in and out of canyons and over a pine-covered mountain, discussing the works they did buy and the ones they didn’t buy as they drove, arriving in the town of John Day at about 4:30.
The first gallery they tried turned out to be very poorly stocked, and by the time they realized that fact, a telephone call revealed that the other one was already closed. They purchased a small drawing, more to thank the owner for staying open past closing time than to enhance their collection.
Laughter filled the van as they drove slowly down the street, laughter that released all the stress and tension of the day, always wondering if they were using Lyceum’s money properly, always hurrying to stay on schedule, always struggling to keep the art works cool and protected.
They found a museum open where a Chinese herbalist had once practiced, and then treated themselves to a tasty dinner of prime rib and shrimp, before checking into a cozy motel and renting a good movie. By the time the movie was over, Rachael and Shawn were yawning. Suddenly Shawn felt guilty, remembering that Sarah had spent the previous night completely alone.
“What are you doing tonight, Sarah?” he asked.
“There’s a trail along the river, and the moon’s almost up. Maybe I’ll find some berries!”
With mixed feelings, he said, “Don’t you get scared being alone at night? I could go with you...?”
“I don’t get scared. I can walk quieter and hide better than anyone else who’s out at night. But you can come with me if you want to.”
Shawn wasn’t sure what he had just gotten himself into, but whatever it was, there was no way to honorably back out now. He changed into casual clothes, grabbed his coat and wallet, and they said good night to Rachael, who was planning a hot shower and a deep sleep.
They found the riverside path easily enough, and randomly decided to go downstream. Sarah’s keen eyes spotted apples and blackberries, and they sampled them as they walked. After they had left the town behind, the surrounding hills stood out brilliantly in the white moonlight. Only once did Sarah grab Shawn’s hand and pull him into a hiding place. A minute later a man rode by on a bicycle.
After they had gone about four miles, Shawn’s feet were getting sore.
Sarah seemed to know, and proposed they turn back. When they finally returned to the center of town, Shawn spotted an all-night cafe and pulled Sarah in that direction. They laughed and talked over pieces of pie as two
a.m. approached. Shawn had never had such sore feet before. Neither had he ever felt so happy.
In the motel room, Sarah picked up her book as Shawn took a shower and fell into bed. As soon as he was fast asleep and she had finished another chapter, she slipped back out the door, this time going upstream along the river. Hours later she returned with a bag full of apples and plums.
After breakfast, the second gallery proved to be much more fruitful than the first, yielding two paintings and a drawing, and they were beginning to wonder where they were going to put things if they found many more good art pieces at such excellent prices. The gallery facilitated a phone call to one of the artists, but a visit would not be possible until a future trip.
They munched on plums during the long drive to Dayville, where they were welcomed into the home of an artist, a short little black-haired lady who was already represented in both the Lyceum Collection and the Gallery. Her display room also contained works from other artists who lived out of town.
One sculpture and one painting were added to the back of the van, and Rachael expressed keen interest in a work that was still in progress.
The town of Mitchell provided them with snacks and they took a side trip to see the nearby Painted Hills, but the place that used to be a gallery had changed hands and now carried only crafts and souvenirs. Shawn bought small gifts for Ashley and Liberty, and they headed southwest over the Ochoco Mountains.
Prineville was the largest town they had visited yet, but after some excellent Mexican food for lunch, they found only one piece of art they wanted to take back to Lyceum, although the names of two other artists were added to Rachael’s notebook for future consideration. After the painting was loaded, nothing else would fit in the cargo area of the van, and one small sculpture was even sitting in a box on the front seat, held in place with a shoulder strap.
As mid-afternoon approached, they pointed the loaded vehicle and its valuable cargo toward home. All three were feeling numb from looking at so much art, and didn’t feel they could make clear decisions any longer. Shawn and Rachael took turns driving, and they stopped for dinner in the Warm Springs Nation, but no one was up to quick-witted games of Twenty Questions
or deep political discussions.
As Rachael drove the last thirty miles to Lyceum, Shawn sat beside Sarah, wondering if he was really so lacking in companionship as he had thought, pondering the possibility that God was giving him everything he needed, but he was just being a little slow in recognizing it.