“NO,” ADAM SAID when Anne asked if he would like to go to her studio to work on a sculpture. He bent down, scooped a handful of clay from the bank of the pond, and squeezed it until muddy water ran down his arm. Buster yawned and rested his scraggly head on his paws, eyeing us with what looked like amusement.
“The coyote’s smiling again,” I said.
Anne squatted in front of the dog and scratched behind his ears. “Actually, dogs and coyotes don’t smile, but yes, it does look like Buster’s laughing at us. The Native Americans call the coyote ‘trickster’ for the jokes it plays on humans.”
“He doesn’t play jokes on Adam,” I said.
“No, you don’t, do you, fella?” Buster squirmed with what appeared to be pleasure as Anne rubbed his hairy back. “Anyway, lightness of being supports healing.”
Lessons from a smiling coyote? “Adam agreed to do a piece for the gallery, right?”
Anne stood and the dog whimpered, following her with his yellow-brown eyes. “Yes, but he didn’t say when or how. Looks like we’ll have to bring the clay here.”
Another delay. With only two weeks until the next gallery showing “How long will it take for a sculpture the size of Adam’s to dry?”
“Probably a week,” Anne said, still eyeing the dog. The relaxed expression on her face and the faraway look in her eyes implied that her thoughts were elsewhere.
“So, if it takes Adam four days to sculpt, and it needs a week to dry, and then it still needs to be bisque fired, glazed, and re-fired... Anne, we’ll run out of time.”
“There’ll be time enough,” she said. “Brock’s on call. It’ll take him less than fifteen minutes to get here. Let’s go get that clay.”
We paused to wave at Adam before heading out of the grotto, but only Buster appeared to notice. He gave a short yelp and appeared to grin even wider.
~~~
Two hours later, we were back, lugging our clay burdens on our shoulders, but Adam was no longer in the grotto. I tried not to let my impatience show or let on that I had a painful stitch in my side. Darn, the clay was heavy.
“He can’t create if he’s not in the mood,” Anne said, shielding her eyes from the sunrays shimmering off the pool of water.
I paused to listen to the raucous chirping and chattering of hidden birds and the whisper of the afternoon breeze as it swooshed through the redwoods, oaks, and pines, marveling at the gentleness of nature’s music and feeling a sense of tranquility take hold. When would I learn that some things just couldn’t be rushed?
“Come on,” Anne said. “He’s probably having lunch.”
As we neared Adam’s campsite, I heard squeals of laughter.
“Oh, oh, guess who?” Anne said.
We stepped into a clearing of soft wild grass just as Holly announced, hands on hips, “Brock said it was okay, so mind your own business.”
“Holly, let’s go,” Christopher pleaded. “Mom and Pop are looking for you.”
Holly stomped her foot. “I haven’t said goodbye to Adam yet.”
“Hurry up before we get in trouble.”
Holly shot off, tangled curls flying. “Adam!”
“What a handful,” I said, amazed, even envious, at the girl’s tenacity.
Anne dropped her bag of clay. “Thank God for her love and innocence. It just streams from her.”
“And her trust,” I said, my throat tightening. “When do we lose that?”
“Too soon,” Anne said. “Too darn soon.”
“Hi Marjorie! Hi Anne!” Holly called after giving Adam a peck on the cheek. “We have to go now.”
“See ya,” Anne said.
I raised my free hand in farewell just before Holly and Christopher disappeared through a break in the underbrush.
Adam stood—smiling.
“We brought you some clay,” Anne said, pointing at the plastic sack I still lugged over my shoulder like a burden basket of gripes and grudges. “And there’s more where that came from.”
Was it my imagination, or did Adam’s eyes dull just a bit?
“You can work with it here if you like,” Anne said, nudging the bag of clay at her foot. “All you’ll need is a piece of plywood as a base and a bucket of water.”
“In the grotto.” he said, his voice barely audible amid the piercing chatter of birds.
Anne yanked the bag of clay back over her shoulder with a grunt. “Your wish is my command.”
Adam nodded, but made no move to follow us. Neither did Buster. Instead, he raised his furry head and sniffed the air.
When we reached Adam’s outdoor studio, Anne dropped the clay and huffed.
I let the bag of clay slide off my shoulder and land next to hers. “Okay, so now what?”
“We leave Adam alone and check back with him later.”
~~~
When we returned that evening, Adam and Buster were still hunkered down next to the unlit fire pit where we had left them. Adam stared heavenward, shoulders slumped.
“Whatcha doing, Adam?” I asked.
He pointed at an opening between the trees.
I crouched beside him and squinted at the star-studded sky until I grew soft and weepy. What was he thinking? What was he feeling?
“Be back in a bit,” Anne said, heading in the direction from which we’d come. “I’m meeting Brock at the Lodge to discuss this weekend’s schedule.”
Before I could react to her desertion, Adam said, “Look!”
“Wow,” I said, not wanting to disturb the tranquil mood by asking him what he was referring to.
“I’ll follow that star home,” he said.
Guilt gripped me. All I’d been concerned about lately was getting Adam to create a damn sculpture, when instead I should’ve been concerned about his health and well-being. Actually, he was doing a better job of adjusting to the changes in his life’s journey than I was. What could I learn from him?
“Do you know what it’s like?” he asked.
I wrapped my arms around me, suddenly chilled. Was he asking if I knew what it was like to lose my mind? “Yes. I think I do.”
“You have AD, too?”
“No, but sometimes I think I’m losing my mind.”
“Did you go in for...um...help?”
“Sort of.”
“Did they figure you out?”
I thought of Dr. Tony Mendez, how he’d guessed that I was hiding things. “In order to help you Miss Veil,” he said. “I need to know... What have you not told me?”
“Sort of.”
“I hated that place,” Adam said. “There were pictures...of...of brains on the wall.”
Dear God, he’d been through hell.
“They asked me questions, and... I got mad.”
“Me, too,” I said.
“I didn’t know the answers, so I...”
“Ran?”
“Yes.”
“Me, too. Doctor’s orders.”
It was almost dark now, except for the moon and stars. I hoped that Anne would remember to bring a flashlight on her return.
“There is no cure,” Adam said.
I made a choking sound.
He turned his attention from the stars to me. “You sound in despair.”
The simple statement caused my throat to swell and tears to slide from the corners of my eyes. Adam, a man who was losing his mind, had sensed my mood and given it a name, thus unlocking a door to my heart that had just about rusted into place. I wanted to go back to Morgan and Joshua, but couldn’t until I’d contacted Antonia. Or until she’d contacted me. She was caught between dimensions, lost between worlds and, in a way, so were Adam and I.
I sensed Adam watching me. “I hear other people’s thoughts,” he said.
I froze. Just like me. What a pair. “I’ve been hearing other people’s thoughts, too, Adam. It scares me, but I try to listen.”
Adam shifted closer to me.
“Normally I don’t take on other people’s problems,” I said. “I have enough of my own. But I care about you, Adam. I’m just not very good at showing it.”
“I miss my son,” Adam said.
“Where is he?”
Adam took in a shaky breath, but didn’t answer.
I put my hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you let us contact him for you?”
“He’ll come after me.”
“Isn’t that his choice to make?”
I felt Adam’s body sag next to me. “I won’t be a burden.”