Looking for Cassandra Jane (The Second Chances Novels) (30 page)

As I was wiping my hands it occurred to me that, fair or not, Moonlight had once again been “blessed” with a relatively easy labor and the uncomplicated delivery of Sky’s firstborn son.
Just another one of those many injustices of life,
I thought to myself as I observed Breeze staring blankly at the healthy newborn.

And so, on the second of January, just one year to the day since we’d first embarked upon our journey to “The Promised Land,” the first child of the second generation was born into our unusual family.

I felt almost light-headed as I left, relieved to escape that metallic smell that permeated the birthing room. I discovered Stone and River sitting nervously in the living room (a world away from the claustrophobic confines of Moonlight and Sky’s bedroom) both anxiously awaiting the news. With pride I told them Moonlight had just delivered a healthy baby boy and they both lifted their hands and praised God. I saw River’s face visibly relax, and I felt sure that (like Breeze) he’d been reliving their unfortunate birthing experience only two months earlier.

“Where’s Sky?” I asked as I glanced around the corner and into the empty dining room. I’d expected to tell him first.

“I think the rest of the brothers are working on something out in the barn,” said Stone. Clearing his throat, he returned to reading his Bible.

And so I went out in search of our new “daddy,” anxious to share this good news. But when I pushed open the barn door, I noticed a blue cloud of smoke in a dimly lit corner and I was about to scream “Fire!” when I heard Sky’s voice calling to me.

“Rainbow?”

I peered through the haze to see Sky and Mountain and our two new brothers all sitting on hay bales in the smoke-filled corner. A kerosene lamp barely illuminated their shapes. “What’s going on?” I asked as I cautiously moved toward them. “It looks like there’s been a fire or something.”

Then they just laughed. And I mean,
really
laughed. Like I had said something outrageously funny. But as I got closer I could see they were smoking! And I immediately recognized that almost putrid, sweet, green smell. It wasn’t tobacco, but marijuana! At first I felt confused like maybe I’d just gone back in time, but then I realized where I was and who I was with, and then I felt betrayed—like another part of my little world had just been drop-kicked and was now spinning totally out of control.

“You—you guys are smoking pot,” I finally said.

“Yeah,” said Mountain. “Want a drag?”

I shook my head. “Isn’t that sinful?”

Sky stood now, waving me over to him. “Come here, little one.” He looked slightly off-balanced and placed his hand on my shoulder, probably to help steady himself. “Listen, Rainbow,” he said slowly, as if I were a half-wit who might not fully understand. “We’ve studied this. And marijuana is not a sin. You see, there’s a verse in the Bible that says everything that grows on this beautiful earth has been put here by God and is to be used for our benefit.”

“Yeah,” said Mountain, “and we happen to think grass is pretty beneficial.”

Everyone just cracked up over that. Everyone but me. I didn’t know what to say or even to think. It’s as if everything had just been turned upside down. Finally, I remembered why I had come out to the barn in the first place. “Sky,” I said soberly, hoping to get his attention. “Moonlight just gave birth to a healthy son.”

Then they all began to whoop and congratulate themselves, as if each one there had been personally responsible. I just shook my head and left. I don’t know when Sky finally came into the house to see his newborn son that evening, but I knew I’d had enough for one night. I sneaked off to bed without waiting up for devotions (which were already running late anyway due to birthing babies and pot parties).

As I lay in my bed that night, I still remember being unable to say my prayers. And for the first time in a long time, I seriously began to doubt God. At first I doubted that he really cared about any of us. Then I doubted that he had actually led us to the farm. And finally I began to doubt that he even existed at all. It was a dark, sick feeling, taking root inside me, invisible perhaps, but real just the same.

I’d like to be able to say that it was then and there—at that particular moment—when I came to my senses. That I finally woke up and realized that coming to “The Promised Land” had been nothing but a great big stupid mistake. But unfortunately, some of us don’t learn our lessons quite that easily. And the life I’d lived as a young child may have instilled a certain stubborn quality into me—a downright bullheadedness that wasn’t too easily knocked out. Besides, where would I go anyway? No Joey Divers was going to show up to rescue me now.

Had it only been a week ago that he’d come by? Had he really even come, or had I just imagined the whole thing? And if he had come, why hadn’t I been smart enough or strong enough to go with him, despite what Sky had said? What if Joey really had been God’s escape route for me? What if I had blown it?

Suffice it to say that I lived and moved in something of a trance during the next couple months. Perhaps it was simply a survival mode, a remnant of those ever-important skills I’d learned so early in life:
Do your chores, keep a low profile, don’t rock the boat
—
and maybe, just maybe, you’ll make it through this thing called life. Or not.
And so I became the great pretender, working hard in the kitchen to placate Venus and Sky and putting on phony “spiritual airs” whenever necessary, but the cold, hard truth was, I was dead inside.

It was during this era that I began to really fear Sky—or maybe the power he seemed to hold over me and everyone else. And I knew that I’d somehow fallen down in the pecking order. For whatever reason, I was low woman on the totem pole now (and women were already so much lower than men at the farm).

By springtime, he had a whole houseful of women to choose from. And unlike me, none of the others seemed to mind the way things were going. I guess that was my main problem—when you got right down to it, I minded.

Perhaps our most unlikely member came in the form of a has-been movie actress by the name of Helen Knight. To be honest, I’m still not completely convinced she’d ever really been an actress (at least not on the silver screen) but she assured us that she’d been quite a hit in her time, and there was certainly no disputing that this woman had a certain theatrical flair about her.

Her name was quickly changed to Star (fitting, since she’d supposedly been one once). Star reminded me of Bette Davis (in her later movies) with her exaggerated mouth and sagging expressions. And contrary to Sky’s early decree in regard to women’s modest adornments and appearances, Star was allowed to wear whatever she pleased, including flashy costume jewelry and garish makeup that I’m sure she must’ve salvaged from the stage. And to be honest, I liked her a little at first. She seemed the odd exception to so many of our ascetic rules. In a way I suppose she gave me hope. But of course it was short-lived.

We immediately began to experience Star’s more spiritual side, always cast in a flamboyant and dramatic package. And she in turn became Sky’s closest confidante and, I’m sure, biggest influencer. Yes, it finally seemed that Sky was under the spiritual influence of another. Star was what some might call a “spiritualist,” meaning that she was (or was supposed to be) greatly in touch with the spiritual world. She had been to India to study under gurus, to the Himalayas to converse with Buddhist monks, and claimed to have once dined with John Lennon (I highly doubted this). Without warning, Star might go into a trance right in the middle of oatmeal at breakfast time. She would moan and groan, rocking to and fro, as she held her wrinkled hands, palms up and trembling so much that her rings would clink against one another like finger cymbals. It was so unsettling (the first time I witnessed it) that I was unable to finish my meal. But as time went on it became more of an everyday occurrence.

More and more I wondered where God and Jesus were in all this. Our original spiritual direction had changed drastically. Oh, sure, we might hear those names mentioned here and there, along with a bunch of others. But somewhere, somehow, things had definitely changed. And I found it hard to believe that I was the only one disillusioned by all this. And yet, no one questioned these changes. Everyone seemed pretty laid-back and happy, and I suspect this was a result of the influence of the marijuana. It’s as if pot and Star had cast a spell over the entire farm. I think that’s when I began to think of “The Promised Land” as the Funny Farm.

I’d been disturbed to see first the brothers, but then later on, the sisters as well, using and then growing marijuana. One of Mountain’s friends brought in a big truck with a bunch of plants, and presto, we were in business. And while I’ll admit that I never observed anyone becoming violent or mean-spirited while under its influence, it troubled me deeply just the same.

Somehow it reminded me of my daddy—and everything else I’d tried to escape from since the earliest memories of my life. Not only that, it seemed to strip away everyone’s initiative and creativity. They just didn’t seem to have an ounce of “spizzerrinktum” as my grandma used to call it. It’s as if their motivation had just gotten up and walked right out the door. Now it seemed all anyone cared about was growing, protecting, and eventually selling more marijuana plants—and then of course, getting high.

But as if pot and Star weren’t enough, it had also become more widely known and accepted (though never openly discussed) that Sky was in fact sleeping with all the other sisters. In fact, other than me and Breeze (because for some reason, she and River had some sort of exemption) I’m sure Sky slept with every sister there. And so it seemed quite obvious now that poor Sunshine had been exactly right about her accusation last fall. Why hadn’t I believed her?

Breeze and I carried the bulk of the household chores, and that bulk was increasing with each new resident. My roommate, Cloud, only lasted for a few weeks, until she got married to one of the brothers. After that it seemed my roommates changed with the regularity of “weddings.”

Surprisingly, Sky still hadn’t attempted to match me up for a marriage. I couldn’t quite figure this out, but I didn’t really care since I didn’t want a loveless marriage anyway and I couldn’t bear the idea of watching my stomach swell into the full moon I’d seen on Moonlight before she gave birth. In fact, as time passed, I felt fairly certain, and somewhat hopeful, that Sky had forgotten all about me. I was just that girl who worked in the kitchen.

And yet, despite all my isolation and misery and hopelessness, I still loved the farm. I can’t fully explain or understand it—maybe it was a love-hate sort of thing. But I did love that clean smell of the sweet dewy earth in the morning, and seeing the small tender seedlings beginning to sprout in the vegetable garden in the spring, and the fruit trees in full blossom. And even though I no longer believed in “The Promised Land” per se, I knew it would be hard for me to leave this place. Not that leaving was an option anymore.

With the progression from simply smoking marijuana to selling it, our farm had turned into a very tight security establishment. Under the management of Mountain, much of the profits from the high-quality marijuana were quickly reinvested into tall chain-link fences encircling the land (with electrical current running throughout). This was the only project that year where I noticed the brothers really throwing themselves into it, but then, why would that surprise me? And if that imposing fence wasn’t enough, the property was also patrolled at night by two trained German Shepherd guard dogs by the names of Michael and Gabriel, our “angelic” protection. So even if I’d wanted to escape, how could it be done?

One day in early spring, as Breeze and I were outside hanging up laundry (I often tried to repay her help in the kitchen) I decided to tread on some somewhat shaky ground.

“Are you and River happy here?” I asked as I pinned up another diaper (naturally, despite three more babies on the way, we’d never have dreamed of using disposables).

“Happy?” she mumbled with a clothespin stuck between her teeth.

“You know.” I glanced around for eavesdroppers. “Do you think you’ll be here for—well, forever?”

“I don’t know where else we’d go.” She sighed.

Now I was fully aware that River, and sometimes Breeze, smoked pot occasionally, and while this had disturbed me some at first, I tried not to hold it against them. Especially since, out of the whole group, they were probably my best friends, and to my relief their use of pot had not greatly impaired their ability or willingness to do their share of work. “But do you ever want something more than this, Breeze?”

She looked me straight in the eye. “Rainbow, I think I’m pregnant again.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. Was this meant to be good news? “Are you glad?” I finally asked.

She smiled. “Yes, I really want a baby. And River’s happy about it too. And I think everything’s going to be okay this time.”

I wanted to ask her how she could be so sure and what would happen if she was wrong, but just then Moonlight walked up and fingered a damp diaper on the line. “Aren’t there any dry diapers here?” she asked with irritation. “Thunder just messed his last one and I can’t find a single one in the house!”

I still couldn’t believe that Sky had actually named his firstborn son Thunder. But apparently I was the only one who thought this slightly strange. Certainly, I never thought he’d name him something ordinary like John or Mike. But it just seemed that as time went by, Sky became more extraordinary and even weird (in my opinion this was greatly due to Star’s influence). Now, following her lead, he’d begun going into these long “trances” where he’d be meditating and hear “spiritual forces” speaking to him. I must admit that it was all pretty convincing, if you were into that sort of thing (which I felt less and less inclined to be). Mostly I just thought both Sky and Star were great big phonies.