The Choice (21 page)

Marcie grabbed Sam’s arm before he could bolt out the door and play cop. And shut down this party, which ultimately, would humiliate her with the locals.

“Sam, please don’t. That’s not how it’s done here.”

She could feel his heart racing. “Sam, please.”

He pulled away and climbed out. Marcie slid her bum around on the black vinyl and stared at Diane. “It’s what happens here. Sometimes it goes on for days. No one can get by. It’s life here, and it’s harmless.”

Diane only grunted as she climbed out. Jesse followed, frowning and shaking his head. “Jesse, please help me, get Sam to stop. I have to live here with these people.”

“Hey Marcie, didn’t know you were back. Wow, what happened to your head.” Jean, a chunky woman in her fifties, decked out in her trademark eighties retro pink satin shorts and faded yellow shirt, walked past Jesse and hugged Marcie.

“I fell, it’s nothing really. Good to see you, Jean.”

Marcie recognized all the familiar faces, laid back local partiers, always looking for a good time. Unfortunately, this summed up the extent of their ambition. She declined several offers for a beer. And it wasn’t until she chatted over some good times and rehashed the latest gossip that she spied Sam and Jesse. Both faced hippie Bob, as he regaled them animatedly with some broad tale, his beer sloshing out of the can each time he flapped his arms. His long white hair and matching beard rustled in the wind.

Somehow, Diane managed to convince drivers of three cars parked on the left hand side, to move their cars to the other side, so only one lane was blocked. In less than an hour, Marcie, Sam, Diane and Jesse were able to squeak by and continue on their way.

“So is that a common thing, to start a party in the middle of your only main road on the island, drinking and then getting back in your car loaded? Completely illegal, by the way Marcie, just in case you missed that part of the law.”

“Sam, I’m not going to argue the laws of state with you. I guarantee I won’t win. I’m also not condoning their behavior, but I’m not willing to judge them either.” The air sizzled between them. And there was nothing but icy silence from Jesse and Diane in the back.

Around the next bend, Marcie passed a three by five cookie shack, hammered together with plywood, with a peaked cedar roof. There were several on the island, at various spots along the main road. All owned by locals and loaded with fresh garden vegetables. Peggy, an elderly, plump lady wearing a floppy straw hat, waved her down while holding a bunch of carrots. Marcie stopped and leaned her elbow out the open window.

“Oh Marcie, you’re back. Are you going home?”

“On my way now.” The truck rumbled while she pressed the brake.

Peggy waved her wrinkled hand high in the air. “Well you go on then, I’ll be right over to see you.”

Marcie waved her hand out the window and pulled away. Sam’s eyes scalded her again.

“Interesting lady.”

“Who Peggy? She’s awesome.” Sam offered a mere grunt in reply.

“So what was that little hut about? What kind of stuffs being sold?” Diane leaned forward, grabbing the back of Marcie’s seat.

“That’s what we call a cookie shack. If you live here, you have to be self-sufficient and grow your own food. People sell their extra vegetables, fruit. Some even sell baking. Those cookie shacks are filled daily with whatever the owner of the property has available to sell. It’s an honor system. Price is listed and people leave the money in a can.”

“Let me guess, nobody worries about getting ripped off.”

“Not by locals.”

Sam was apparently not familiar with a small community. Man, did she miss this place.

Around the next tree-lined bend, one of the island lakes magically appeared. Marcie turned down a rough dirt driveway that sloped at a gentle incline, surrounded by thick fir trees opening into a clearing with a quaint log home, which appeared deserted. No dog, no chickens, just thirty acres of birds, nature, Arbutus, Fir and Juniper trees, overlooking
M
irror
L
ake, with a clear blue sky and warm sun—simply a slice of heaven.

“Here we are; home sweet home.”

Through fresh eyes, she could see the magic of this place. The front porch listed. The overhang leaned heavy on one side, and Marcie glowed at this magnificent, peaceful sight. “Watch the top step, the front board’s cracked. Jesse, Sam with your weight you’ll probably go right through it.”

Time stood still. That special feeling you get when you return home staggered Marcie, until she wanted nothing more than to curl up and cry. Shaking, and a little misty eyed, she opened the front door. It was the same but different. As if now she could appreciate the beauty of this place. She loved the large square kitchen with the fir log walls. The corner wood stove, a small, modern propane fridge and stove and her granny’s nicked oak table filled the center of the room.

“You always leave your door unlocked?” She wiped her eyes, so lost in thought she didn’t realize Sam stood right behind her.

Before she could respond, a car rumbled down the driveway. Marcie wandered back outside. Peggy in her spry, eighty-eight year old body, climbed out of a rusted brown Hyundai, making a beeline straight for Marcie, wearing blue polyester pants, a short-sleeved striped shirt and sturdy beige shoes, similar to what nurses wore. She was an image in her floppy straw hat with a long yellow scarf draped over the top and tied under her chin.

“What happened to your head?” She retained the southern accent from her youth. Years ago when someone on the island commented on it, she articulated in a very matter of fact way, to lose it was to shake her roots, and that she wouldn’t do.

“I fell and hit my head, but it's fine.”

“You need to be more careful. Put some lavender oil around that cut, and then you’ll be healed in no time without a scar. You’ll still be pretty as a picture. Now listen, the reason I’m here is part of the First Responders. Old Mike Stuckey took a fall off his boat onto the dock and broke a vertebra in his back. He’s flat out for a while. When I went over there, he had nothing for food in that camper he’s living in. I opened the fridge, and he’s been using it as a safe.” Peggy continued dramatically, splaying her hands wide to enunciate each point.

Marcie felt screws tighten in her stomach when she realized the interest Diane, Sam and Jesse projected. Her back was hot, and she stood center stage.

“Now, I’ve managed to line up enough volunteers for the next five days, till Sunday anyway, to cook his meals. He’s out of everything, even his pot. Rob’s graciously offered him a bottle of rum and a bag of pot, but I told Rob you need to monitor it so he doesn’t mix them and overdo the rum. Sandy’s going to feed the cat. And to top it off when I was there, Mike asked for a six-pack of beer, but I told him, I’d chill it at my place and take him over only two a day. That’s enough.”

Sam’s arms were crossed, and he sidled closer to Marcie. His face tightened, and if she didn’t know him so well, she’d be shaking in her boots. They had to be thinking the worst. She wanted to stop Peggy, but she gave up and closed her eyes, trying to rub away the worry lines between her brows.

She could hear shuffling in the dirt. Diane and Jesse stepped forward. That was when Peggy’s head shot up, her face agog, as she darted her head first to Diane and then Jesse, before they landing straight on Sam. She scrunched her lips together and stepped closer to Sam, peering through her outdated thick glasses.

“Who’re you, are you Marcie’s boyfriend?” She gave him no time to respond. “You got yourself a new man? Finally, saw the light and kicked out that no good scoundrel you been dogging around.”

“Peggy, this is Sam and that’s Diane and Jesse. Her hand trembled. Worried about how they read Peggy, not well obviously by the way they each appeared to slip into their own cop mode. None of them showed a flicker of emotion. She wanted to yell at Peggy, “
stop talking, they think you’re a drug dealer.”

These are my… Sam, what are we anyway?” This time she passed him the ball before her throat jammed up.

He stood stone faced, giving nothing away by his shadowed, tight eyes.

“We’re involved.” His arms remained crossed in front of him.

“Hmmm, well sonny, I guess that’d be another word for sleeping together, boyfriend, girlfriend, shacked up. Afraid I’ve heard it all in the thirty-six years I was a schoolteacher down south. Makes no difference to me, just treat her right, she’s a good girl. Any fool paying attention can see sparks zapping back and forth between you two. Now listen Marcie, I’m here to ask you what can you do for old Mike?” Peggy could throw you in a second the way she changed the subject. And so dramatically, the way she used her hands to speak fluently, as much as the words that flowed from her mouth.

“I won’t be staying, so I can’t do anything for him.” Then she remembered, “I’ll give him some essential oils and herbs that should speed up the healing. It’ll help with the pain some, so he’s not popping pills, at the same time clear his head. And Peggy, he really shouldn’t be smoking pot, especially when he’s flat out. It’s bad for the digestion.”

“Ah Marcie, I missed you girl. Just give me what you can.” Peggy’s voice echoed across the property, as Marcie slipped inside the cottage.

Marcie kept her distilled oils and herbs in a small hand-carved cupboard, which hung beside the kitchen window. She grabbed a small bottle of each, when a shiver raced up her spine, prickling the hairs on the back of her neck. She jumped, wondering if someone followed her in. “Geez, what the hell.” There was no one there. She squeezed the bottles in her hand and hurried out.

Sam turned to her as the screen rattled. She saw Peggy take the opportunity to size Sam up while conversing with Diane and Jesse quite intimately.

Marcie caught only the tail end of the conversation. She was on a rant about the government’s atrocities and a black military chopper, which had shown up a few weeks ago, landing on the Miller’s 160 acres. The cops had repelled down their lines. “What do they think? One call from the Millers and we all know they’re here. Oh and Marcie, I forgot to tell you, next Saturday’s the annual Las Seta awards. And old Mervin Phelps is up for the slowest driver on the island. Do you know he actually broke ten miles an hour, his top speed, just last week in his shiny red Escort.”

“Wow, he’s speeding. I’ll be sorry to miss it. Is it at the Fireman’s Ball?”

“Yes, and the MC hosting will be our esteemed Lance Silver.”

“Lance Silver, you don’t say? Hey Marcie, I think we should go. It’ll be fun. What do you think? Diane, Jesse, bring some friends?” It was the first time Sam had said anything spontaneous since Peggy arrived.

“You know Lance? He’s quite the entrepreneur, you know. He just hauled over a big combine on that new barge of his. Says he’s going to be a wheat farmer now. Here on Las Seta, can you imagine? He’s such a growing concern.” Peggy leaned back allowing a deep rumbling laugh to flow out of her.

“Here you go, Peggy.” Marcie handed her both bottles. “Now tell Mike just a teaspoon of this herb; make it into a tea. The oil, drop it on his shoulders and spine.”

Peggy plopped both bottles into her bulky canvas bag, looped over her arm. “Why don’t I hold onto this herb, and send it round with each one whose turn it is to feed Mike. And they can make the tea for him. Now listen Marcie, is this guy here going to treat you right and give you the respect you deserve? Or is he just using you for sex?”

Sam choked beside her. Diane actually snickered under her breath, and she thought Jesse was going to pass out from laughing so hard. And Peggy, well, she beamed in mischief.

“Well you’re a big girl, Marcie. This time use that head God gave you. You’re still young enough to get it right. Make your granny proud.” Then she hugged Marcie and climbed in her car with a huge wave, before backing up in a giant circle and roaring up the driveway.

She’d never told Sam what she did, selling her herbs and oils as a natural healer. She’d need to clarify a lot, after Peggy’s visit. On top of that, she realized he might have the wrong impression about the island folks.

“Interesting lady, what’s this First Responders society of hers all about? Supplying illegal substances?”

“It’s about looking after your neighbors, Sam. When someone’s in trouble, this is what a community’s supposed to do. Step in and help. She’s not a drug dealer. She’s a fabulous lady who was the first to show up on my doorstep when Granny died. She helped me, made things easier for me in my grief. She handled the arrangements. And that’s another thing I’d like to do before we go. I’d like to go and visit Gran’s grave and make sure it’s being tended. Which, I’ve no doubt with my neighbors here, it’s being cared for diligently.”

“Nice speech, Marcie. How many people here on this island are growing marijuana, and let’s start with the herb you supplied her. And this Rob who’s supplying a bag of dope to the injured guy.” Diane and Jesse flanked Sam; their arms crossed.

Okay, this wasn’t good. They had the wrong impression.

“I grew the herbs in my garden. It’s what I do, Sam, for a living. Granny was a healer, and she taught me. I grow oregano, sage, thyme, lavender, peppermint. You know all those things you buy in the store. Well, they have natural healing properties. I grow and sell them. I don’t take drugs, legal or illegal ones. The herb I gave Peggy’s ground up peppermint leaves. It helps digestion. The pot from Rob Peggy mentioned, I think you already know Sam. There are people on this island who grow marijuana for their own use. That’s all Rob does. He’s not a dealer. Feel free to look around this property, but you’ll find no marijuana plants here.”