Twenty-Three

TO: LINDSEY FRIEDLAND

FROM: HotDawg Horner

Hey, Lindsey, how’s it hanging? Thanks again for the dating advice! Never thought after twenty years of marriage I’d be divorced and acting like a dorky highschooler again.

But, yeah, I got your drift about your mom sticking with your dad just because he was a “good provider.” Guess I was figuring gals wanted to hear upfront what I could offer. Who’d a thunk ol’ Horner had the true gold inside? Well, that’s what Cheryl just told me. We were watching that new Neil Young DVD on my hi-def widescreen (ooops!) and she turned to me and told me she likes MY “heart of gold.” Well, hot damn….

You remember Cheryl VanHouten from high school? Ran into her at the Grizzly, she’s a widow, and we’re hitting it off. Plus, she likes cooking shows, too! We’re trying out some spicy new recipes (heh-heh).

Great being pals with you, Lin. Talk about Heart of Gold, you got it, gal.

Luv, Ted

BOOM! Thunder overhead. And Lindsey had a gaggle of newbie tourists in her raft.

The dark cloud out of nowhere snagged on the treetops fringing the rocky canyon, burst open in drenching rain, and the river was swelling, racing faster through the rapids and black boulders. Damn, where’d this come from? But Lindsey had handled worse before.

“Forward, forward. Okay, left back. All forward!” she called out to the tourist paddlers as they burst through another rapid, spray flying, rain stinging. They’d listened to her coaching, they were doing fine.

Then a blast of boombox punk rock behind them, drunken hooting, and a raft of idiots burst around the bend, out of control racing toward them.

“Left, left!” Lindsey shouted. “All forward!” They needed to get out of the way.

Too late. The idiots rammed them, went spinning and whirling on still laughing, as Lindsey’s raft hit a boulder and tipped, spilling two. “High side!” she ordered the rest as she lunged partly over the stern, head and shoulders submerged in the swirling maelstrom, managed to snag the woman’s life jacket. Lindsey dragged her in as burning pain ripped through her shoulder.

She ignored it, got her paddlers back on track, caught up to the bobbing young boy in his helmet, stabilized the raft as the boy’s father dragged him back in sobbing.

“Okay, okay, everyone okay?” Lindsey was fighting red pulses of pain in her vision, fire running down her arm now. “Jimmy, you’re a real trooper!”

The boy was okay, giving her a grin through tears. They all hunched in the downpour, whitewater crashing over them, racing down the canyon. Lindsey gritted her teeth against the pain as she steered. No choice, gotta keep going—

“Damn!” Lindsey wakes up in a damp tangle of sheets, sitting bolt upright and blinking in the dawn glow through the curtain. She rubs her aching shoulder along the surgery scar, souvenir of that rafting snafu. She groans. “What next?”

Thrusting the sheets from her, she staggers upright and out the back door to stand on the damp grass taking in deep breaths. A rare thunderstorm last night, bringing a cloudburst of rain, has cleared the air of its end-of-summer haze. The fresh morning breeze clears her head, too.

After a quick run through the awakening neighborhood, Lindsey stands under the cold, bracing spray of the shower. It’s Labor Day. She has her standing invitation to Megan’s parents’ beach cabin for their annual “Good-bye to summer” barbecue. Megan let her know yesterday that Newman’s back from India, and he’s coming, hoping to see Lindsey there.

He’s tried to call Lindsey a couple times in the past week, but she didn’t pick up, and Newman didn’t leave a message. She’s had it with all the overwrought emotions. She just wants closure, wants to move on. She calls Megan to beg off on the barbecue.

“Giving Newman some of his own medicine, Lin?” Megan asks.

“No. No games. I’m just tired of the whole thing.”

“Well, okay then. We’ll miss you, sweetie.”

“Say hi to your mom and dad for me. Ask if I can visit later.”

“They’d love that. How’s it going with your folks?”

“The best we can expect, I guess, for now anyway. All of Mom’s care providers are clued in on our concerns, and everyone’s ready to act if Dad crosses the line and someone witnesses it. And this new gal Patsy we hired to come in daily for a few hours to help out, drive Mom to appointments if we can’t make it, cook something to heat up for dinner—she’s a pistol. A real county gal, Dolly Parton hair and all, drives a big pickup, and she may just be a match for Arlen. Pitches crap right back at him if he starts up.”

Megan laughs. “Oh, my god! I’d love to see that!”

“Let’s go out for a visit, and you can see for yourself.”

“It’s a plan.” A pause. “And Kevin? Any news?”

Lindsey sighs. “Not good. Every time I go up to read to him, it seems like he’s shrunken a bit more. Rob thinks it’s time, and the doc agrees, maybe best to take him off life support, let nature take its course. But Marci won’t let him go. I get it, he’s her boy, but it’s all so awful….” A sobbing breath catches in her throat.

“Oh, Lin! Damn, I hope they make that doc pay!”

Lindsey takes a deep breath, pulls herself together. “Rob’s going ahead with the lawsuit, and I really like his lawyer, he’s dedicated. They want to stop this happening again, at least with Dr. Bennerton. And hopefully the hospital will actually make the audits meaningful. But it’ll be months and months before anything happens, the whole legal tangle….”

“Will you testify?”

“Oh, yeah, if it helps.”

“You go, Amazon woman! I’m proud of you, gal friend.”

After she hangs up, Lindsey takes another quick shower, all the emotions triggering a sweaty hot flash. But they’re not so bad now, thank goodness. She settles back down to her article about the Mayan weavers, finally making some progress. She’s about to take a break when the phone rings. It’s Newman.

Great. All the times I wanted him to call, and now….

She takes a deep breath, answers. “Hi.”

“Lindsey? It’s good to hear your voice.” His voice tugs at her, that calm deep ocean vibe.

“Yes….” She takes another breath. “How was India?”

“It was great. Good for me, good for Melani. Getting back to the ashram, that peace. We did a lot of meditating together, and she loves the people, wants to spend more time there once she graduates. And it helped me get clear again. I realized that you were right—I have been afraid to open up.” A gusting breath. “Lindsey, I’d like to see you again. I’m going to be home for a few weeks now. Would you like to come out for a sauna? We can talk?”

A pause. She shakes her head, realizes he can’t see it. “Newman, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh.” He sounds taken-aback. “No, I get it, and I want to apologize. I wasn’t being... caring before I left. I got sort of freaked out about the Guatemala trip, how it seemed like everything was moving too fast. Like I enjoyed it too much. We were getting too attached, too soon. Then I hurt your feelings.”

“Yes, you did. But, actually, you were right—we did need some space. And when I thought about it, I realized that you’d been treating me disrespectfully all along, like I was on call for your convenience. And I’d been going along with it, which I never should have done.”

“Wow, that’s….” A stretched-out pause. “I didn’t realize. Can I try to make it up to you? Get a fresh start?”

“Newman….” She sighs. “I’m not sure that’s possible. Can you visualize your lifestyle changing? Not flying around so much? Actually able to make plans that stick?”

“Hmm.” Another pause. “It is my business, Lindsey. And my spiritual work sometimes calls.”

“And that’s part of it for me. I know that’s your life, Newman. I get it, I admire your work, and I care about you.” Suddenly she’s sure, and the words are there. “I’ve had time to think about what I want. And it’s not a part-time lover, someone who’s flying off in so many directions. I want companionship in a lover. So I’d like to be friends, but let’s give it more time. I don’t want the physical part to take over again. Maybe we could go for a hike or something this fall.”

“Maybe…?” He sounds oddly off-balance. Then silence.

“Newman, you there?”

“Oh. Yeah. You just… sound different. Not that it’s bad.” Then he chuckles. “Listen to me, I’m babbling like a blessed idiot.”

She laughs, too, relieved. “I think we’ve both been like Rumi’s blessed fools. I’ve learned a lot from you, Newman, and I’m grateful.”

“That sounds—”

“No, I mean it. I think I’m seeing myself more clearly now, too.”

“Good.” His voice has softened. “Hey, can I send you an astral hug?”

“I’d like that.”

And she can feel that calm blue from her dreams, from their meditations together, flowing around her, touching her heart. She smiles, sends back her own warmth. Peace. It may not make sense, but that’s okay. She’s learning acceptance.

September 7

Dear Diary,

Take Twelve? Take some deep breaths….

So I did it, walked my talk, I am Woman and all that jazz. Lindsey who’s taken on wild rivers and hospital corruption! Strong and sufficient unto myself. Learning to love who I am.

Maybe someday I’ll be walking along a trail, happy in the sunshine, singing my own song, and there up ahead will be someone to keep me company. Someone to love. But today I’m fine just as I am:

Lindsey Friedland. Lindsey freed!