Scavengers (9 page)

I tried so hard to maintain my composure. I really did, but then out of the blue I imagined myself at a public swimming pool on a hot day, bobbing up and down, my ever-gaping life preserver.

Then I imagined her as a horse to ride, and I galloped with her two times around the car, feeling the breeze in our “life-like hair.” Then the ham in me realized that I had engaged my audience, each member close to pissing in her own pants.

We did it on the hood of the car.Snap!

I turned her around and gave it to her trunk on our trunk.Snap!

We did it with the overhead light giving us support.Snap!

I turned her around again, and this time her wrap-around arms copped a feel of my breasts.Snap!

I turned her over, and her wrap-around arms hugged my ass and her “snugly snatch” made me turn my face.Snap!

I turned her over and around again, sticking my tongue between her “full-bodied lips.”Snap!

I was so into my porn shoot that it took me a moment to hear Claudia and Alison yelling at me.

“It's them!” I finally heard, and I knew exactly who they meant.

I shoved my Lover Doll into the back seat, and all three of us piled into the car. Almost before the last door slammed, I started the car and shot gravel all over as I whipped the car around in the parking lot and barreled toward road. We were ahead of them!

Despite hysterical laughter from us all, I managed to drive both fast and safely. As car lights encroached, Alison stuck my Lover Doll out the window, closing it tightly just below her silicone boobs. Her wrap-around arms flailed in the wind—and hopefully pissed off Laura and Holly with her incessant waving at them.

At last we skidded to a stop in front of the old Victorian. I laid on the horn three times—I know, nice, tolerant-to-a-point neighbors—so Kris and Ginny would get their butts out of the house and record our time. We bailed out of the car in perfect time with Laura's parking.

"We win! We win!” Claudia and I wailed, jumping up and down like little girls who just had pinned a tail on the donkey, not ones who had just pinned the tail of a Lover Doll.

And indeed, we had won—finally!

From my shirt pocket I grabbed something else I had picked up at Peter's Palace. I kept them hidden for a moment and approached Ginny and Kris. “Extra points for bringing our lovely hostesses a gift?"

"Could be a few extra. It depends on what it is,” Kris said and then turned to Ginny. “You agree?"

"I agree. Hand it over.” She opened her palm in front of me, and Kris followed suit.

With that I gave them each a boob-shaped sucker. They stuck them in their mouths immediately.

"That gets you an extra ten points,” Kris said, smiling and madly sucking.

Ginny, on the other hand and not surprisingly, offered opposition. “I say fifteen."

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Kris and Ginny had changed the rules this time. Not only did they give full points to Laura and Holly for a picture of one who was obviously not a dame, but they also gave Alison half the points for “sentiment and hanging in there.” Maggie and Lisa got full points for simply ripping out a page from a girlie magazine, but the more I thought about, the more I realized that they had taken the simplest and perhaps the most direct path to the goal: they had taken a picture of a hot dame. It seemed like the “take it correctly” argument. This time “take” actually meant “take.”

Nonetheless, we had won, and it was about damn time.

I grabbed the clipboard to find that we were in first place by a mere one hundred and fifteen points. Laura and Holly were in second. Maggie and Susan trailed them by only one hundred.

Alison, who would probably do better now that she was on her own, was gaining on us all with seven fifty. There were two clues to go, and depending on their worth, it was still anyone's to win.

Furthering the unexpected rule changes, Kris did not do her usual handing out of envelopes with an order to get moving. Rather, things came to a halt, and they were asking for help putting stuff in their van. They said they had an antique show the next day, right after our brunch, and needed to make sure they were ready to go. Ginny persuaded everyone to help her in the kitchen, while Kris pulled me by the arm into the garage to help stack lawn chairs and blankets in the van.

I did as she instructed, stacking nearly a dozen chairs. As I worked I noticed that Kris acted strangely. Then it dawned on me that she was fumbling for words.

"What?” I finally asked, giving her an opening and myself some relief from not knowing.

"This next clue, sweetie—” she began.

"I'll be damned! You're going to help me cheat!” I interrupted.

"Hardly! It's just that Ginny warned you that there was one that would be very hard for you."

"And now you're having second thoughts? What the hell are you planning on doing to me?"

She paused, looked me square in the eye, and said so very matter-of-factly, “Get Claudia back to you."

"She is back!” I squealed. “I just haven't had time to fill you in. But she's back. I can feel it."

"Will she still be there, sweetie, when you guys don't have this scavenger hunt to focus on?"

I thought for a moment. “I think so. She said she'd figure out what was keeping us stuck. She always keeps her word. I can't start doubting her now."

"You don't have to doubt her. She's doing that herself."

Suddenly, my eyes shot tears as if they were red-hot bullets. “What are you going to do? Please don't hurt her! Please don't do something wrong so I lose her completely!"

"Come on now! You know we love you both. We would never hurt either of you. But she's leaving us, sweetie. She's pulled away so far that I'm not sure she knows the way back anymore.”

She paused again, pulled me near her, and said, “We're just going to leave her some crumbs on the trail. That's all."

That's all!I didn't even know where or why she went, but I had a strong enough sense of guilt to assume that I had done something to push her away.

"You do want her back, don't you?” Kris challenged.

"More than anything!"

"Are you sure you can be there for her—like she should have let you be there for her after to grandmother died?"

My mind drifted back to that time. Her parents died when she was a small child, and her grandmother raised her. In so very many ways her grandmother was her life, her one true love.

Losing her proved to be the hardest thing she had ever done. It nearly paralyzed her, but she eventually forced herself to move again. Or had she? Was that what had made her go away?

I turned to Kris and burned my eyes into hers. “Where did she go, Kris?"

"I think just away because it was too much to deal with. We all do that when we need to. It's a gift really,” she explained. “But she's just been gone too long, and every attempt I've made to reach her has fallen short."

"So what do I do?"

"Nothing. I know that sounds ludicrous after I've just scared the bageebers out of you. But you don't have to do anything that doesn't feel right. Just love her. Be there. Welcome her back. I think she's so afraid of losing you that she's making herself lose you. If that makes any sense."

It didn't make sense. Not one iota of sense came to me.

"Do you remember Emily Dickinson from school? The eloquent Goddess of Grief."

"Of course, I do. Ginny used to ram her down our throats."

"Remember this one?” she challenged again “'Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate / that time will come and take my love away. / This thought is as a death which cannot choose / but weep to have that which it fears to lose.’ She's not grieving her grandmother ... or her parents ... she can't let herself. She's grieving you, sweetie. In her logical mind, you're next. She's lost everyone else.

You're next."

A spotlight came on in that dimly lit garage. The epiphany kind of light that brought clarity to even the darkest corner.

"I'll get her back, Kris."

"No, let her come back. She won't be taken; you know that. You know her."

She patted me on the back in an affirming, soothing way. She assured me that they would be right there if we needed any help. Then she kissed my forehead, swatted my arm, and ordered,

“Now get that stuff loaded!"

She left the garage and me to my thoughts. With each thing I loaded in to the van, the line, “but weep to have that which it fears to lose,” repeated itself within me.

With the van loaded, we were given our envelopes, told that completion was worth one hundred and fifty points, and sent on our way.

I asked Alison if she needed a ride—hoping beyond hope that she didn't. She informed me that Maggie and Susan were going to drive her by her apartment so she could get her own.

As soon as I got into our car, Claudia said, “Talk about a working vacation! Ginny had us making sandwiches, packing coolers, filling thermos—you wouldn't believe it!"

"Yeah, I got put to work, too. This antique show of theirs must be quite the shindig."

I handed Claudia the envelope. Never before had I so dreaded learning our fate.

She held the sheet of paper toward the streetlight, and we read.

The scary tales about the orphanage are all made up—not real.

We simply make reasons to avoid that with which we cannot deal.

The children are there and for so very long went without a mark.

A group of good people set a fine mission on which to embark.

They gave them each their name on a simple stone for their resting plot.

We know for sure what we're are about to ask from you may be a lot.

With carnations in hand, each of you find just six with whom you share first letter of first or last name; then show them they matter, that you care.

Bring back the cellophane florist's wrapper that held your fresh flowers; write your finishing time on its sticker and leave it by our tower.

"It seems pretty straightforward,” she said, “but what are the scary stories about the orphanage? I never heard any bad ones."

"Actually, I did a piece on this when the stones were ready. The place closed some forty years ago. Since then, everybody has said the cemetery is haunted. It was creepy, all run down. They said the children roamed around there at night looking for their parents. Stupid, juvenile stuff.

Some people at the Granton Historical Society raised money, cleaned the place up, and gave each child a headstone. The orphanage records listed names and plot numbers."

"That was very nice of them."

"What had you heard about it?"

"Gram—” she stopped and went coldly silent.

I gave her time, remembering that Kris had told me “she won't be taken.” It was my monumental task to just let this unfold, to trust.Trust!

"The orphanage is close to Gram's house,” she finally said. “I remember the building. I used to ride my bike by it on the way to the park, but I didn't know about the cemetery, not until I read your piece in the paper."

"Oh, you read my stuff, huh?” I teased, trying to remain as much like myself as I could. I didn't feel quite like myself.

"Yes, I do, actually. So where are we supposed to get carnations at this hour?"

"Already figured that out. The market up the street has a florist area."

We drove there in silence. She seemed okay. Maybe Kris was wrong; maybe she had indeed returned.

As I turned the car off in the parking lot, I said, “I'll run in quick. Do you need anything? Got an Earl urge?"

"Yes, but I'll be up all night if I give into it, and besides, I don't think you can get one here."

"Watch me!"

With that, I ran into the store and grabbed a bundled dozen carnations, making sure they came in cellophane and sported a sticker. Then I grabbed a box of Earl Grey tea, lusting after the coffee beans as my nostrils passed them. I paid, ran to the car, and tossed the lot onto her lap. She looked into the sack, saw the box of Earl Grey tea bags, and asked, “What am I supposed to do, snort this?"

"You can try it, or you can trust me."

I slammed the door, and like someone half my age, I sprinted to the convenience store that was located in the far corner of the lot. In a matter of minutes, I returned with a steaming cup of plain hot water and a fake kind of cappuccino from a beverage machine.

She smiled, took the cup of hot water, and gave Earl a spin in the hot tub. “You're good,” she said.

"I know,” I replied and returned the smile, taking the car out of the lot.

About ten minutes later, we skirted the curb where the old orphanage stood. A newly painted sign read:Site of Granton Home. Donations welcome. I looked around to see Maggie and Susan pulling in behind Laura and Holly, with Alison falling in line a second later.

We disembarked and congregated for a moment or two, almost avoiding what we were about to do. Kris and Ginny had removed all fun this time, and yet, no one seemed to begrudge our mission. It was one of those right-things-to-do. I prayed that held true in every respect.

"Everybody have a working flashlight?” Laura asked, and after we each flashed our lights, we headed out.

As we turned, I saw in the distance, maybe three-quarters of a block down a side street, a parked but exhausting van. The moon provided enough light that I could see the silhouettes of a driver and a passenger. I smiled to myself and felt less alone. Our angels were watching.

We slowly meandered down the building's drive. I pointed to the wrought iron gate at the back of the building, and we all neared it, as a group, as one.

"This place has always scared the crap out of me,” Maggie declared as we prepared to enter.

"It's okay, Maggie,” Holly reassured. “Even if they are here, they're lost little kids. We won't let anything happen to you—or them."

Susan took Maggie's hand. I grabbed hold of Claudia's and squeezed tightly.

Once we were all through the gate, we formed a line, as if by script. We raised our flashlights and beheld the scene. The light seemed to turn on row after row after row of little flat, white stones. They held the light and seemed to glow. In the middle, an enormous budding oak tree spread out his mighty arms, as if holding them all, these children, in a protective embrace.