Magic was in the air at Listening Lark, Christmas magic. I sat at the small kitchen table in the guesthouse eating scrambled eggs and drinking pineapple juice. We put a chicken coop on Raindrop’s land, past the yoga deck, in the small grove of trees, to give the chickens shade from the hot SoCal sun. They were great producers, and Sunny and I had fresh eggs for breakfast every morning.
A tall, curved, metal palm tree with wide green fabric leaves brightened by white lights on the trunk and leaves sat by the small gas fireplace. Multicolored lights hung around the ficus tree on the other side. Stockings, one for Sunny and one for me, decked the fireplace. A stuffed snowman and snowwoman, holding hands, sat under the tree. Raindrop’s attic was filled with Christmas decorations. When River and I went up to retrieve ornaments and lights for the nine-foot Douglas fir we placed in the main living room, we brought down several more items, maybe going a little crazy with the decorations and lights, but everyone in the family enjoyed the festive look. Sunny loved the palm tree and snow people, so we enjoyed those in our guesthouse.
Sunny still slept in our bed, her long blonde hair barely visible under the white down comforter and pillows. Last night was a late one, probably around two when we fell asleep. She would sleep well past the normal time she got up, which was fine; we made our own schedule here. I, for one, could never stick to a rigid schedule like most people seem to do. I liked to live a fluid life.
Christmas was next week. Brother Jim planned a big celebration for the entire family on Christmas Eve at Raindrop’s house. It would be interesting to have everyone here overnight. We would set up tents outside for those who did not want to stay indoors; some members preferred the outdoors. I was one of those people until we moved to the guesthouse. I think it was more a matter of having privacy with Sunny than an indoor or outdoor preference. I loved living there, and hoped our existence in the guesthouse lasted a very long time.
Jim Bob was getting more suspicious about River. Lately, he’d been keeping him at Grandmother’s house more frequently, working on projects around the house with Eagle. He wanted to keep a strong hold on Raindrop; she was our biggest financial supporter, and had just begun filming a movie that was supposed to be a huge blockbuster. That meant more money for Listening Lark and more areas for Brother Jim to expand into and grow our family. Jim Bob called me yesterday. Two new members to the family would join us for the Christmas Eve celebration. Both who would secure more substantial financial support, a model, one of Raindrop’s friends, and an executive in the fashion industry. He was doing exactly what he told me he would do. Listening Lark was growing by the day.
On Christmas Eve, the house twinkled with lights and the backyard twinkled more. Alternating strings of white and multicolored lights hung around the pool, outdoor dining space, and farther back on the Zen Yoga Deck. The guesthouse was draped in lights, looking like a fairytale house outside the main house that burst with Christmas cheer—from the tall tree in the main living room decorated in silver and blue to the smaller trees in the dining room and family room. Raindrop was a bit of a Christmas fanatic, and with our help, created a house perfect for any Christmas elf.
Sunny and I were busy baking today, making batches of cookies not with sugar, but agave and other natural sweeteners. I loved watching her as we baked, the delicate gold heart locket I bought her for Christmas hung on her slim neck. I couldn’t wait to give it to her, so we exchanged gifts early. She loved the locket and I the leather-bound journal she bought for me. The universe sent me the perfect woman. She knew how much I loved to write in my journal every day.
Brother Jim had a huge white tent set up past the yoga deck, decorated in white lights and a large Christmas tree, adorned with white lights, and flocked with fake snow. I was surprised he was putting in so much effort for the holiday, although most of it was fueled by Raindrop. Our Christmases in the past had been festive, but low key compared to this year. Brother Jim had a big announcement tonight. I thought I knew what it was, but sometimes he surprised even me, and we were supposed to be partners. I was sure he’d have liked to be the sole owner of Listening Lark, but that wasn’t the case. We kept each other in check, well, most of the time.
We gathered under the tent’s twinkling white lights among all the family members, almost seventy now. We wore our white robes with gold embroidery, and Brother Jim stepped up on the small, elevated platform, white lights hanging vertically behind him, giving him a white glow. He was dressed in a white gown; his long raven hair, same color as mine but sparser with his receding hairline, flowed down his back. He raised his arms high, eyes to the heavens, and began to chant. The crowd followed suit.
“Family,” he said in a strong, yet soothing, hypnotic voice. “Brothers and sisters of Listening Lark. As we celebrate tonight and look forward to the future, the universe has provided opportunities for us. As we travel our path to spiritual oneness, we as the individual open to become part of a whole living organism. And I know you can feel the beating heart tonight of oneness. Look around, brothers and sisters, feel the bodies and spirits of us blend to form Listening Lark. An outpouring of sharing and harmony joining everything we have with one another. Shout it! Shout it!”
Brother Jim raised his arms higher, doing the angel wing pose again. The white lights behind him seemingly glowing even brighter than when he started talking, making him seem even more angelic. Damn, he was a good performer.
“Listening Lark! Listening Lark!” the crowd shouted over and over again.
“Louder!” he commanded, his arms still raised.
“Listening Lark! Listening Lark!” Voices became bolder and louder as they echoed off one another.
Sunny and I joined the shouting and chanting. Being in a group like this with the raw energy vibrating through it was intoxicating to me, even if I knew it was a ruse. I didn’t care. The feeling of the moment filled me with such fervor, I got lost in it.
Brother Jim put his hands up to indicate silence. “And, so, I’m happy to announce we are buying the property adjacent to Raindrop’s house, so that we can truly live together as a family! This is a new day for Listening Lark!”
The crowd clapped and cheered, some dancing around. I smiled, already knowing the news. The new member, the fashion executive, had deep pockets, and wanted to lavish it on Listening Lark, much to Jim Bob’s delight. Grandmother’s house now would be used for office and work purposes. Jim Bob wanted to expand Moonbeam’s jewelry making business, with Lilac’s help, and start making homemade wine as a family business, as well.
“I’m also delighted to introduce you to three new family members,” Brother Jim said. “First, welcome, Fire.”
A well-groomed middle-aged man with sleek blond hair walked to the front. Must be the fashion executive.
“Star,” said Brother Jim. A beautiful young redhead joined them. Must be the model.
“And, finally, Venus.” Brother Jim beamed.
A young woman, slightly taller than Sunny, with long dark hair walked to the front. She turned, her tan skin glowing under the white twinkling lights, her lithe body draped in the white gown we all wore. Her wide, dark eyes stared into the crowd. Her full, red lips curved into a shy smile.
My breath stilled and I stared.
Venus.
THIRTY-SEVEN2023
Aimee
Snow fell lightly as I left the store, my hands full of shopping bags and much-needed Christmas wrapping paper and tape. When the store from Elmville called to say the tools ordered for Archie had come in, I made a quick dash over to pick them up. After all, it was Christmas Eve. I thought I’d have to wrap up empty boxes with pictures of what I ordered: Now I’d have the actual presents to wrap.
The snow increased its intensity on the thirty-minute drive home. We planned to go to the candlelight service at the local church in Poplin, but if this kept up, we may stay home. Getting stuck along the road in a snowdrift was not on my Christmas Eve to-do list.
I pulled into our lane, stopped at the mailbox to pick up the mail, and scurried back inside the vehicle. Back in the warmth of the car, I sorted through it. A bill, two Christmas cards, junk mail. One card was from Robin’s parents, a beautiful sparkling Christmas tree on the front. Sadness stabbed me as thoughts of Robin filled my mind. I was still surprised how much I missed her since we’d only known each other for a few months. But she was often in my thoughts.
The second card was from Nick, Archie’s only friend. I tore open the card, a lovely snowy scene on the front. Inside, a simple, Merry Christmas, Nick. I flipped the envelope over and read the Oregon address. A post office box, not a street address. It occurred to me I didn’t even know Nick’s last name, which was a bit odd. I needed to ask Archie more about him. Maybe we should invite him to stay with us for a visit. I’d like to get to know him.
I drove up the lane, enjoying the beauty of our home. Lights were on inside the lower window; Archie was working on our Christmas Eve dinner: roast turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, candied carrots, escarole salad, and buttery rosemary rolls. Twinkling electric candles blazed in every window. Bright snowflake lights were hung on the rails of the porch and our sparkling Christmas tree peeked out of the living room window. Snow continued to fall, blanketing the high, pitched roof, draping over the stained-glass window of the attic, spilling over the wide porch where two small pine trees, decked in bright white lights, flanked the front door. Something else sat on the front porch to the right side.
I looked closer, but the snow fell heavily now, obscuring a clear view. I parked the car in the garage, grabbed my bags and while I usually would enter through the side door, I walked onto the front porch instead.
I wiped snowflakes from my face, the wind nipping at me now as I stared at the stuffed snowman and snowwoman holding hands by our front door. Almost an exact match to the ones Dream and I had in our cozy guesthouse that one Christmas so many years ago. I placed the shopping bags down and walked over to the snow people. I examined them, so similar to the ones I remembered, but these were obviously brand new. I shivered, but it wasn’t because of the cold. Tears formed in my eyes thinking of the day Dream and I decorated the guesthouse. How I had loved him. I brushed them away. It had started again. The gifts. But why after months of quiet had this new reminder of Listening Lark turned up? Dream was playing games again. I clutched my abdomen remembering the last time I saw him. How could I still have such love for him and such terror? I only wished I knew the rules of this game.
I stared at the snow people. I remembered Christmas Eve at Raindrop’s house. After Raindrop gave me the key to the guesthouse, we had a few brief conversations about Brother Jim and Listening Lark. Raindrop was older than most of us: She was thirty-three, but looked much younger. She was like an older sister to me, even though I was often the one giving her advice. We became close friends.
Brother Jim wasn’t what he portrayed to his followers. Raindrop found that out, and she wanted out of the relationship and out of Listening Lark. Not only to be free of Brother Jim, but to be with River. They were in love and wanted to start a life together without Listening Lark. When the property next to her went up for sale, Brother Jim demanded she buy it for the family. He had been becoming increasingly demanding of her, trying to keep his hold over her, probably sensing she knew who he really was—not the gracious leader of Listening Lark he portrayed himself to be in front of others, but an opportunist trying to grab at anything he could get a hold of, despite the damage he caused in the process, and an abuser. She tried talking to his other women, but none would listen to her, branding her as a troublemaker, and not believing in Brother Jim’s mission. She refused to buy the property, and I remember my gut-wrenching sadness when she showed me all the bruises on her body. After that, we brainstormed ideas about who could help her break free of Brother Jim’s hold.
I knew Dream wouldn’t help. Relaxed and mellow Dream hated violence, but he’d never go against his cousin. A secrecy and bond existed between Brother Jim and Dream, one that he didn’t share, even with me. In a way, I had admired the loyalty at the time because I thought it was reflective of Dream’s loyalty to me. I wasn’t at Listening Lark because I believed all the dogma the group presented. I was there because I wanted to be with Dream, who I loved deeply and would follow wherever he went. I liked our lifestyle and the energy of Listening Lark, but Dream was my obsession. What he wanted, I wanted. Yes, I was naïve. I didn’t see what was right in front of me. I should have noticed the signs.
Then Brother Jim announced the purchase of the property next door to the family, and thunderous excitement of chanting and cheering filled the night air. I still remember the look of terror on Raindrop’s face when he made the announcement. She would need to move fast to free herself from Brother Jim.
The peaceful feeling I had earlier dissipated, and I stared at the snow people again. The wind picked up and I pulled my scarf up closer to my chin. I picked the people up and examined them, nothing unusual, then searched the porch for any other clues. I surveyed the snow in the yard around the porch, but there were no footprints. Whoever left these had walked up the sidewalk, dropped them there, and left. Had Archie noticed anyone in the driveway?
Uneasiness trickled through me. I was absolutely certain this wasn’t Brother Jim. He wouldn’t remember the snow people. Only Dream would remember something like that, remembering what fun we had decorating that Christmas and being together. He’d remember every detail, the same as I did. I still thought of him every day, even before the strange gifts started appearing. I wished I didn’t. How can someone who hurt you so badly still hold a large part of your heart? But he was inside my house, inside the store, and he knew everything about me. The one thing about a toxic relationship is that it never dies. It only lies simmering for a time and then its tentacles strengthen and grip you over and over again, without mercy.
What does he want now?
“Hey.” The front door opened, and Archie poked his head outside. “I thought I heard the garage door go, but then I wondered because you never came inside. What are you doing?” He picked up the shopping bags.
“Don’t look in there!” I warned him, shaking off my worries. Right now, with Archie, I was safe. “I have to wrap those!”
He laughed. “Oh, okay.”
I gave one last glance to the snow people before going inside the warm house.
Christmas Eve was a perfect package wrapped in a red bow. Just me and Archie eating dinner together, listening to Christmas songs by a warm fire. We never made it to the church candlelight service, as the snow continued to fall heavily outside our windows. Six to eight inches were predicted by morning. I put the snow people out of my mind for the evening.
Archie and I exchanged presents; we didn’t want to wait until tomorrow morning. Gorgeous diamond stud earrings for me and woodworking tools for him. We cuddled under our seven-foot Douglas fir teeming with white lights and various baubles of silver and gold.
Now, well past midnight, we were cozy under a fuzzy blanket, drinking hot chocolate and munching on Christmas cutout sugar cookies.
“This is everything I ever wanted,” I remarked, licking a bit of whipped cream from my lip.
“It’s pretty good,” Archie replied, staring at the fire. “Better than I imagined.”
“You weren’t sure about moving here at first, were you?” I asked.
