Chapter Twenty-Nine

Twenty minutes later, I was the last to convene in a colorfully tiled dining room, which overlooked the property’s upper pond—the koi pond. Floor-to-ceiling windows afforded a view of a dozen multicolored fish, swimming in remarkably distinct phalanxes.

The other houseguest turned out to be Paul Arthur—Sam’s brother, who had interviewed me in my office.

Side by side at the white linen-covered table, Paul and his sister’s resemblance was obvious. His face was slimmer than I remembered, and his eyes were a different shade of blue from Sam’s. But they both embodied the Nordic bone structure and facial features that I associated with Vikings and blond supermodels.

Paul stood and greeted me warmly, offering his hand. I reached across the table to shake it and felt the same spark I’d been disconcerted by when I’d met him. Now, I could recognize that it was simply a poorly boundaried charge that Paul carried and didn’t know about. He had a fair amount of potential—energetically—but he hadn’t developed it much.

“Paul’s here to stay safe, as well,” Sam said, once I’d seated myself between Anne and my mother, across the table from the siblings.

“We’ll talk about all that after we eat,” my mother said.

Instead, while we ate, my mother peppered me with questions. Why hadn’t things worked out with my last girlfriend Susan? Did I enjoy my work? How had I met Chris?

“Here’s where I see myself ten years from now,” I finally reported after ten minutes of this. “And if I were an animal, I’d like to be a fuzzy little kitten. And I think I could be an asset to this company because I’m so damned cooperative when I’m being interrogated.”

There was silence at the table.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I guess I’m uncomfortable being the center of attention.” And I’d never liked the controlling side of my mother, either. Who knows what might’ve emerged out of a free exchange of ideas between us? She was substituting what she wanted instead.

“I know I’m your mother and I push your buttons, Sid. But you’d better get used to the attention part. You’ll be the center of all kinds of scrutiny soon.”

The food was simple, vegetarian, and plentiful. Apparently, Anne had cooked, and now she served us, too. We drank water, not having been offered anything else.

Sam picked up the conversational slack after I’d derailed my mother. While I scarfed down a roasted eggplant and kale salad—it was awful—she told the others about the cliff descent (the PG-rated version—sans toplessness), the parking lot fracas, the Mumbai taxi wreck, and the motorcycle chase. Strung together, her narration sounded like an action movie trailer.

When the last bite had been eaten, I turned to Paul. “So why do you need a safe haven?” I asked.

“RGP hired me again—this time to deliver the ransom money for Andrea to Tommy T.’s men. It didn’t go as smoothly as it could’ve,” he said. His voice was much more familiar to me than it should’ve been. I briefly wondered what that was about.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked. I’d assumed she’d had a chance to talk to Paul, but perhaps she hadn’t.

“It might have turned very ugly,” he said. “The kidnappers were trying to intimidate me, and I wasn’t armed. My martial arts skills are nothing like Sam’s.”

“Marco said you were a bad student,” I told him.

He laughed. “I probably was, but he was a very impatient teacher, too.”

I glanced at Sam. She nodded and smiled back.

“This was out at the end of the city wharf,” Paul continued, “just past those nooks where all the sea lions congregate.”

“I love the word ‘nook,’ ” Anne said and then immediately clapped a hand over her mouth.

My mother raised an eyebrow; Anne lowered her head.

“I like the word ‘congregate,’ ” I said, smiling at Anne, who looked up and brightened a bit.

“So you were in the midst of all the tourists?” I asked Paul.

“Yes. They were all freezing, as usual, in their shorts and T-shirts. The fog was in. So basically, four Maori men were about to take the bag of money away from me, with no guarantee that we’d see your mother again.”

“Yikes,” Anne said. This time she shook her head ruefully, pushed back her chair, bowed, and left the room.

“It’s only her second day of silence,” my mother explained.

“So what happened?” Sam asked Paul.

“Jason Patariki happened. He showed up at full speed from out of nowhere and threw two of the guys over the railing into the bay. That guy is amazingly strong. These weren’t small people. Anyway, after that, we followed the protocol we’d agreed on.”

“Were the tourists freaked out?” I asked.

“Some of them,” Paul said. “But for most, it was like we were putting on a show. I think the sea lions were more upset, all in all. They certainly raised a ruckus.”

“Did you know Jason already?” I asked.

“No, no. I mean, I sat with him in your waiting room that one time—you don’t forget a guy who looks like that—but I just thought he was part of a gay couple waiting for therapy.”

I laughed. “Jason and the rat-faced guy? They would have been a wildly unlikely couple if they were gay, wouldn’t they?”

“Well, my gaydar told me about Jason—I’m gay myself. I don’t think he’s out, but he’s totally gay. Anyway, I only knew his name out on the wharf because he introduced himself right before the sirens chased us all off.”

“Ah,” I said. After a brief silence, while everyone digested Paul’s news, I turned to my mother. “Did they have you in the back of a van or something?”

“Are you picturing a white Econoline like your uncle had when you were a kid—that one that smelled like hay inside?”

“Actually, I was. They always use something like that in the movies.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Sid. First, they kept me at a rather nice B&B by Neary’s Lagoon, and then during the exchange on the wharf, I was stationed on a bench by the surf museum on West Cliff Drive—with a minder, of course.”

“You don’t seem too shaken up by your experience,” I said.

“What’s the worst thing that could have happened?” she said. “I’d die? I’m looking forward to finding out what’s next. Also, the bench was a great spot—very scenic, with scads of darling dogs passing by. And the Maori man who sat with me—I think it was Tommy T.—does he wear cowboy clothes?”

I nodded.

“Well,” she continued, “he told me a fascinating story about how his first marriage ended. Did you know that some women are addicted to enemas?”

“I did not,” I said.

“Me neither,” Sam said.

These kidnappers didn’t sound much like the thugs I’d escaped from in the Bay of Islands. Maybe Tommy T.’s overseas crew was more reasonable or he was hesitant to screw around in a country where he didn’t have cops on his payroll. More likely, my mother’s ability to get along with anyone had prevailed. It was one of the reasons she’d been such a successful therapist and teacher.

“It takes all kinds, said the lady as she kissed the cow,” Paul said. “Our mother used to say that.”

“Boy, there’s an idiom from a more innocent era,” I said. “Nowadays, there’s probably a cow-kissing porn website.”

I was struck by how ordinary the tone of our conversation was. We could’ve all been cousins at a family reunion or work colleagues discussing a clueless boss. Perhaps everyone at the table was either sufficiently evolved or had been desensitized to the point that life or death outcomes—whether for an individual or an entire world—constituted casual topics.

I decided to ask a few direct questions and get as-direct-as-possible answers. My mother could fill in a lot of blanks if she was willing.

“So is it up to me to save the world?” I asked her. “People have been telling me that.”

She laughed. “We’re a little full of ourselves, aren’t we?”

“But isn’t the world in crisis?” I said doggedly. “I understand I can help improve things—and I won’t go into the details with Paul here—but don’t we need to do something special to keep it all going?”

“Now isn’t the best time to go into that, Sid—as you said. You and I will have to have another private chat soon.”

“What about Bhante’s relics?” I asked next.

“What about them?” She seemed irritated by my question.

“Do they exist? Are they really Buddha’s remains?”

“I believe so,” my mother said. “Are you double-checking on things that Dr. Bompiani told you?”

“And Bhante,” I said. “I guess I should’ve done this before. Here’s another question. Do you know if I’m the reincarnation of somebody?”

“You definitely are,” Sam said.

“Who?”

“Whoever you were before.”

“I agree,” my mother said.

“Me too,” Paul added.

“Thanks,” I said. “You’re a very helpful group. Paul, here’s a question for you. Was all that just a song and dance back in my office? If my parents are such an important part of RGP, why did you need to go through all that ‘testing’ to ‘discover’ me? Didn’t everyone already know who I was?”

My mother answered for him. “The members of RGP didn’t care to take it on faith about you. We needed to satisfy everyone that we weren’t acting out of nepotism—that you were legitimately who we told them you were. We’re a democratic organization at heart, despite our need for hierarchy. We don’t proceed without a consensus.”

Paul spoke up. “I certainly wouldn’t want my sister risking her life on your behalf if you were just the fantasy of proud, deluded parents.”

I turned to my mother again. “What about Dad? Where is he?”

“On his way,” she answered, “with your friend Chris, whom I’m looking forward to finally meeting.”

I took a sip of water, which prompted Sam and my mother to drink as well.

“Dad’s really blind, huh?” I asked.

“Oh yes,” my mother answered.

“And those dogs really help him?”

“Yes, I don’t know what he’d do without them.”

“And you see three of them?” I asked.

My mother cocked her head in a characteristic manner. This was her what-are-you-getting-at expression. I got this a lot when I’d start to work my parents for permission to pursue dubious activities.

“Yes,” she said. “How many do you see, Sid?”

“Five, actually. I see five.”

“That’s interesting,” she said, leaning forward to peer at me more intently. “What did the extra two do? Did they act different than the other three? Was there anything remarkable about them?”

“Yes. The extra two suddenly disappeared when Dad and I left the old temple in India. And of course, it’s odd no one else sees them. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t think they’re regular dogs,” my mother said. “I think they’re spirit dogs, Sid. One is probably your father’s and one is yours.”

“Come on,” I said, “that’s ridiculous.”

“I have a spirit animal,” Sam said.

“Really?” I asked. I’d never believed in anything along those lines.

“Yes. I could sense she was with us on the cliff in New Zealand.”

“Isn’t that a Native American thing?” Paul asked.

Sam nodded. “But it’s real.”

“Sid, look around,” my mother said. “If I’m right, and you have the ability to see the spirit world, you’ll see your dog here. Our spirit animals follow us—guide us—protect us. They’re always with us. It’s nothing spooky. They’re just beings without bodies—beings that embody certain qualities that we might need. And particular animals represent various human attributes—courage, loyalty, or whatever—so those are the guises that these beings use.”

“What’s your animal?” I asked her.

“It’s a red-winged blackbird,” my mother said. “I met her in a vision—on a retreat in Santa Fe.”

“And yours?” I asked Sam.

“A jaguar. I call her Maria.”

“All right,” I said. “I’ll give it a try. I’ll look for my dog.”

“Use more than your eyes,” my mother suggested.

I tried it. At first, all I saw was the room, the koi pond outside, and all the rest of ordinary reality. Then I unfocused myself—tried to sense instead of just seeing. Perhaps I could open up to receiving whatever was out there.

I saw the dog. He gradually materialized outside—on a flat gray rock next to the pond. He was plowing his nose into the water and snuffling, trying to catch a fish.

It was definitely one of the two that had disappeared in the ruined temple—this one had lain just to my right on the dirt floor. He was a medium-sized hound mix, jet black with three vaguely diamond-shaped patches of white.

“Holy shit,” I said. “Sorry, Mom. He’s right over there.” I pointed.

Everyone looked and then shook their heads.

“We can’t see him,” Sam said.

“I don’t think he knows he’s a spirit,” I said. “He’s trying to eat the koi.” Just then the dog sat up, swiveled his head, and winked at me. “No, wait,” I said. “He does know.”