She's Gone: A Novel (4 page)

Jolie placed the teapot next to the pestle and Jasmine carefully measured a portion of the herbs into the pot. “This will keep their swelling down in this heat,” Jasmine explained. “Here, divide the rest into these.” She gave Jolie two small glass jars. “And don’t be so quiet. You can ask me anything.”

“How did you learn all of this?”

“I studied naturopathic and herbal medicine in San Francisco. Some things I’ve learned through trial and error.” Jasmine smiled at her. “I haven’t killed anyone yet.”

Jolie glanced up from her task and smiled back. When the jars were filled she leafed through the notebook. It contained handwritten instructions on how to prepare and administer herbal cures for any number of ailments. Notes and drawings filled the margins.

After the tea steeped, they walked through the meadow to the circle of geodesic domes. The two pregnant women sat in the shade talking.

“Jolie is my new apprentice,” Jasmine said, setting down the teapot.

The women smiled at her. “Ah, another sister of medicine,” one said.

Timidly, Jolie handed them each a small jar of the dried tea mixture. “Use one teaspoon per cup in the morning,” she said. She had affixed a label of the ingredients and the amount to use on the jars.

“Where are you from?” one of the women asked.

She stiffened. Will had instructed her to be vague. “Near Los Angeles.”

“Oh, you’re not far from home. I’m from Vermont.”

Jasmine disappeared inside the dome and brought out two cups and poured the women tea. They sat in the shade under towering pines. Jolie listened as they talked. The fragrance of warm pine needles drifted down around them. Jasmine placed Jolie’s hand on one women’s bulging stomach. Jolie jumped when a sudden lurch pressed her hand. The baby?

The woman laughed. “She wants to say hi.”

“You already know it’s a girl?” Jolie said.

“That’s what Jasmine claims.”

Jolie looked at Jasmine quizzically.

Jasmine tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I’ll share my secrets with you if you’re interested.”

Over the next few days Jasmine showed her the herb beds planted at the far end of the vegetable garden. She taught her how to make various remedies for bruises, sprains, colds, earaches, insect bites, and stings. Jolie accompanied her when anyone needed a treatment. One day, instead of milking goats, Jolie went with Jasmine and collected roots and plants from the forest to replenish the supplies. Jasmine explained the timing of the harvests to maximize the potency. They worked side by side under the tall trees.

“Do you know the three things that cannot stay hidden for long?” Jasmine asked after a while.

Jolie stopped digging the Oregon grape root and shook her head.

“The sun, the moon, and the truth.”

Her jaw clenched. Did Jasmine think she was hiding the truth?

“Do you know where to find the truth?”

Jolie shook her head and scanned Jasmine’s face. Did she suspect something?

“The truth is within you. You can find it through meditation and Buddha’s teachings.”

Jolie exhaled slowly.

“I can teach you to meditate if you want,” Jasmine said.

“Okay, I’d like to learn.”

“After we finish here we’ll meditate. It will help you relax. You’re a bundle of nerves.”

Was it that obvious? They walked back to the main house and laid the leaves and roots on drying racks. Jolie inhaled the scent of the woody mixture.

Jasmine got a blanket and a stick of sandalwood incense. Jolie followed her to a shady spot on the edge of the stream. They sat cross-legged facing the water. Jasmine lit the incense and placed it in the ground. “You’ll need a mantra.”

“A mantra?”

“It’s a powerful instrument of the mind. When you silently repeat it you’ll disconnect your thoughts and with practice you’ll eventually get to the source of your mind.”

“You can get to the source of your mind?” Jolie asked.

“Yes, to your pure consciousness, your true being. The source of the universe.”

“Wow,” Jolie whispered.

“I’ll share my mantra with you. It’s
om
. When you chant, it sounds like this: ah-oh-mmm.”

Jolie smiled. “Om?”

Jasmine nodded. “Silently chant your mantra to quiet your thoughts. If your mind wanders, release it and come back to your breath. Breathe naturally. Inhale and expand your belly. Exhale and relax. When you exhale, your navel wants to touch the front of your spine. It’s the way babies breathe.” Jasmine demonstrated the breathing technique. “Meditation is a source of inner peace. You can draw strength and courage from it. It will give you the confidence you need in life. Close your eyes and focus on your breath.”

Jolie closed her eyes and followed her breath, silently chanting om. The scent of a sandalwood forest filled her. As she exhaled, her thoughts flew to her family. What were they doing right now? How could she let them know she was okay? Her troubled emotions swirled in her mind. When could they leave the ranch? She focused on breathing. When she opened her eyes sometime later Jasmine was still next to her, eyes closed with a serene smile. A wave of homesickness swept over her. She wanted to find Will. He always reassured her that she had done the right thing in leaving home.

She found Will in the summer kitchen, the gathering place for afternoon or evening discussions. Will spent his free time there writing in his notebook. He was always at the heart of the debates. Jolie listened to the conversation from the sideline, observing. She tried to catch Will’s eye so they could talk but he was in a deep discussion on the politics of the Vietnam War.

Crazy Bob had served in Vietnam, and two of the men were draft dodgers. After burning their draft cards in anti-war protests in New York and San Francisco, they found themselves at the ranch. The isolation proved to be a perfect safe haven.

Crazy Bob rolled another Bugler cigarette and passed the tin around. “We shouldn’t be supporting the South Vietnamese regime, let alone sending U.S. soldiers to fight. They brutalize their own people.”

“Think about all of the useless deaths in the fight against communism,” Will added.

“No, it’s more about the messed up U.S. imperialist policies,” Mark disagreed.

“No, this war is against the communist aggressor,” Will argued.

Jolie frowned, uncomfortable with their constant friction. Did it really matter, when people were dying? Her brothers could get drafted. Her older brother could be sent there at anytime.

“They lied to us,” Crazy Bob said. “Nixon said he he’d put an honorable end to our involvement but we have more troops there now than ever, over a half a million. Our government has no idea what is going on there. They have absolutely no idea.”

Jolie studied Crazy Bob. His American flag bandana was tied askew around his forehead. Did he get his nickname in Vietnam? “What was it like there?” Jolie asked.

“She talks,” Sky said.

Heat rose to her face. It was true. While she listened to the discussions she didn’t speak much. Usually no one could get a word in with Will and Mark dominating the debates.

Crazy Bob ignored Sky and met her eyes. “I don’t like to talk about it. It’s still too raw.”

She could see a flint of pain in his sad dropping eyes.

The group slowly disbanded. Jolie and Will walked back to their cabin.

“What’s our plan?” Jolie said.

“What do you mean?”

They paused at the cabin door. It was too hot to go inside, and so they sat in front of the ramshackle cabin on a fallen log. “You know, our plan for us and our life?”

Will looked around and spread his hands. “We’re here. At the ranch.”

She looked around. “This isn’t the life I expected.”

“You’re learning things aren’t you? And you’re with me.” He put his arm around her.

She was with him. That had been what she wanted, but she wanted him all to herself. She’d envisioned their own small house somewhere. Will would get a job, and she’d plant a garden.

“Everyone else thinks this is utopia,” Will said.

She looked into his eyes. Utopia? Was he serious? This primitive ranch at the end of a road where the women did most of the work was not her utopia. She couldn’t stay quiet any longer. “Maybe for you it’s utopia.”

His arm dropped from her shoulder and she sensed his mood change. He stood and picked up his notebook. “I’ll be back later.”

Her chest tightened. Had she hurt him? As he walked away, tears stung her eyes. Was this it? Was this going to be their life? She took in the forest around her and the ever-lengthening shadows. Feeling small and alone, she sank into a deeper, even quieter self.

Jasmine and Jolie met in the main house the next morning to make blackberry muffins. Jasmine showed her around the pantry. Jolie had never seen such large quantities of food; boxes of dried milk, sixty pounds of honey, one hundred pound sacks of rice, dried beans, and wheat, all stored in big tins to keep out the mice. Jasmine stoked the wood stove with one hand and wiped sweat from her brow with the other.

“It must be a hundred degrees in here,” Jolie said. “Don’t you like the summer kitchen better?”

“Yes, but there’s gravity fed water here from the stream. Plus there aren’t as many insects. It’s a trade-off.”

Grace strode down the stairs. “Life’s a trade-off.”

“You’re up early. Another one bites the dust?” Jasmine asked.

Grace was single and flirted with all of the men. Her relationships lasted about two weeks before she got bored.

“I told him he had to bathe before I’d sleep with him again, and he laughed at me. I think I’ll try the single life for a while,” Grace said.

“We’ll see how long that lasts,” Jasmine said.

Jolie laughed.

“No, really. I’m going to wait for the right man to arrive. Someone as smart and handsome as Will.”

Jolie’s smile faded and jealousy rose through her. Her mood eclipsed across her face. She wasn’t sharing him.

“Don’t worry,” Grace said. “I’m not going after your man.”

Jolie relaxed. Of course she wouldn’t. They were friends, weren’t they?

A moon dance was planned on the knoll for the late September full moon. Preparations lasted two days. The men slaughtered a goat and roasted it. The woman prepared special dishes. It started with a banquet at the summer kitchen. Lanterns and candles glowed in the night. Joints were passed around and the air was pungent with smoke. Homemade elderberry wine flowed into glasses.

Mark toasted. “To Free People. We’re all here because we embrace freedom. Freedom to live how we wish. Freedom to express our love for each other openly.” As he spoke of love, his gaze was intent on Jolie.

Jolie inched closer to Will and watched the group. The mood was vibrant. Laughter and light-hearted conversation filled the air. They feasted on roasted goat, brown rice, and fresh vegetables. After they finished the last bite of Indian pudding, they streamed to the knoll in a small procession, following the drummers and guitar players.

A circle formed, and a fire was lit in the rock ringed pit. Will and other musicians sat on the ground and began to play. Jolie stood alone and watched from the shadows as the dancing started. The gypsy sound of the tambourine wove together with the guitars. Jasmine and Grace whirled by with the others. The two toddlers twirled in and out of the dancers. The music was hypnotic.