“Thanks, same to you. I’m off from the hardware store today, but I’ll be cutting hay later.”
“Oh, that’s right, Robin mentioned that you farmed too?”
“Did she?” His eyes brightened. “Yeah, Archie asked the other week if I’d be interested in doing your fields. You have corn and alfalfa, right?”
“Oh… yes we do,” I replied. Surprised that Archie hadn’t mentioned this to me. And I never should have told him what Robin said about him; now he knew we’d talked about him. She wouldn’t be happy with that.
“Anyway, you’ll see me later at your house.”
“Oh, all right.”
“Okay, great,” said John, picking up his bag. “Have a good one.”
I nodded, watching him walk out the door. I grabbed my phone and typed a text to Archie.
So, John Larabe is doing our alfalfa fields today?
Three dots.
Great.
Three dots.
I told you about that, right?
No, why didn’t you?
Sorry, babe. I must have forgot.
I sighed. It wasn’t a big deal, but annoying.
Three dots.
Sorry. ❤️
He is sweet.
OK, just keep me in the loop.
Always.
I laughed. Then typed.
Hey, I sold your bench.
Awesome, to who?
John.
👍
I sat my phone down. It was probably good that John could take care of the fields, but Archie needed to communicate with me when it involved the store or the farm. I was in charge of the finances for those areas, while Archie took care of our personal finances. We were equal partners in everything, but I got the feeling Archie felt a little weird about our money when we first got married because I brought so much more of it into the marriage, due to the large inheritance received from Aunt Lou, so I thought splitting the responsibilities would be a good idea. So far it had seemed to work: Archie was more comfortable with everything, and now with buying the property we were partners, in marriage and everything.
Another text popped up on my phone. Robin.
Are you at home?
No, I’m at the store. Why?
Three dots.
I’m at your house. There is music playing inside. I thought you couldn’t hear me knock.
I stared at the phone, then looked at the clock hanging on the wall over the cash register. Archie could be back from doing errands, but he said he got a late start today. Unless someone else turned on the music. I typed.
I’m not there. I must have left the music on. Just go home. I’ll catch up with you later.
No response. Five minutes passed.
Worry filled me. Little stabs of fear poked relentlessly into me. What if Brother Jim broke into our house again, assuming it was him? What if Robin somehow got into the house? He wasn’t someone Robin could handle. She better just leave. I stared at my phone. Please respond.
A text came up on my phone.
No, I’ll come by the store. See you soon.
A sigh of relief escaped me, catching me by surprise. Robin was becoming a friend to me. A real friend that I cared about and enjoyed spending time with, doing whatever. It had been a long time since I had a friend. I worried about her, which was unusual for me. This town was changing me. And whoever was lurking around from my past had to go.
I’d make sure of it even though I was scared as hell.
FIFTEEN2016
The Commune
Dream
Grandmother’s house, a midsize 1920s gem, sat on a few acres in the mountains of Santa Monica, hidden behind tall sycamores, cottonwoods, and bay trees. Lemon, orange, and lime trees also inhabited the property. I remembered visiting here as a child and always picked an orange from the young tree off the back patio. Now that orange tree towered over the house, heavy with juicy fruit.
When she died and we inherited the property, Jim Bob transformed into Brother Jim, and brought his small group of followers here, from his apartment in the Valley. After having a long, intense conversation with me, about his vision and plans for the Listening Lark commune, I became smitten with the idea. I’d just gotten out of a complicated situation and needed a fresh start. A place that accepted me, regardless of my past, or future mistakes, plus Jim Bob needed me to be on board. I was fine with him running things without getting in my way. He was fine with me doing as I pleased if I stayed out of his way. A simple partnership that worked for both of us. And I liked Brother Jim’s theories, if not always his tactics.
In the commune’s early beginnings, we both agreed on the approach to a free lifestyle. No judgment, just living and producing as a unit. A utopia for us and all the Listening Lark family members. Lately, though, we had more disagreements. I didn’t like Brother Jim’s penchant for control, particularly with some of the female family members. And while he had a few members who contributed substantial money to Listening Lark, he kept a strict regulation on food that was purchased for meals, encouraging our sustainability through gardening, our chicken coop, and fruit trees. All wonderful in theory, but not enough to feed forty people every day. I had a suspicion he was putting money away somewhere, without my knowledge, and that he only showed me a fraction of what Listening Lark brought in. But I didn’t want to deal with it. I was comfortable, certainly not lacking in any area. I received my monthly payment from Jim Bob. Brother Jim liked my easy-going personality but hated my lackadaisical approach to life, always had; we clashed from time to time but always came around. We were family.
While all were welcome into our family, I sometimes felt that Brother Jim had an eye for those who could help us to further our mission with financial support. His plans, our plans, for Listening Lark went well beyond the current state, but those plans would require money. A great deal of money.
Listening Lark was lovely. But the three-bedroom house was not large enough to accommodate all of us, so small cabins and tents were constructed all over the property. Sunny and I had a cabin in the back of the house, right under a large orange tree. Simple structures created by River, a strong craftsman, large enough for a queen-size air mattress, a long shower rod to hang our clothing, and four shelves by the arched door opening for miscellaneous personal storage. A comfortable patio chair sat in the corner of the structure. And in the other corner a tiny electric heater shaped like a clay pot to warm us on chilly evenings. We painted the inside of the cabin a creamy white, and River painted a mural of a waterfall on the wall opposite our bed, which was covered in mint green sheets and a white comforter. The combination of white and green gave the small space a relaxing feel. We used the downstairs bathroom in the house, only a few steps away. I could have had a room in the house but chose not to. I preferred living outdoors. Sunny might have preferred to live indoors, but I never told her I had a choice.
One of my favorite things to do was to pick two fresh oranges in the morning and lie in bed with Sunny, peeling and eating the fruit, juices running down our mouths, fingers sticky. It was inevitable that our lips would meet, both juicy and sticky, the sweet nectar of our love marking a glorious new day at Listening Lark.
Sunny and I traveled up Mulholland in the van and turned into the parking lot of the recreation area. We were going to the mountains for a picnic, just the two of us. We loved all our brothers and sisters, but sometimes you didn’t want anyone else around. So, when we felt like this, we packed a picnic basket and headed for a trail.
