The Grim Reader Page 6

  “You okay, girl?” Robin asked, staring into my face and rubbing my shoulders.

  I took a deep breath and exhaled. “I’m just happy to see you.”

  “Yeah. Me, too. Let’s try to do lunch sometime this week.”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Here you go, sweetheart,” Dad said, handing a glass of wine to Robin.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  It touched my heart that she called him Dad. Her mom had traveled so much when she was young that she used to spend weeks and sometimes months at my house. I knew my folks had been much better parents to her than her own mother had ever been.

  When everyone had a glass in their hand, Austin cleared his throat and said, “I want to propose a toast.”

  We all held our glasses up and Austin said, “A toast to my beautiful wife, the love of my life, who’s pregnant with our first child.”

  Mom gasped and burst into tears.

  I was close to it. “Oh my God, oh my God.” I had to take a bunch of deep breaths to keep from losing it totally.

  “Congratulations, love,” Derek said, when it was his turn to hug Robin.

  “Thank you, Derek,” she whispered.

  Dad slapped Austin on the back, then yanked him into his arms. “So proud of you, son.”

  “Me?” Austin said. “Robin’s doing all the heavy lifting.”

  “I’m proud of you for choosing the right woman.”

  “Thank you, Dad,” Robin said, grinning. She set down her wineglass—which I noticed she’d left untouched—and hugged Dad, then turned to Mom, who was blowing her nose and still sobbing.

  “They’re happy tears,” Mom insisted, fanning herself with her hands.

  “I hope so.” Robin grinned. “I thought you might be weeping at the thought of having to babysit for us.”

  “I can’t wait.” She hugged her again, then grabbed Austin and simply buried her face in his chest. Austin was grinning like a loon as he rubbed her back.

  “You’ve made me so happy,” Mom said. She grabbed both Austin’s and Robin’s hands and clutched them to her heart. “After all the crap I’ve been through, you two have really turned my day around.”

  I choked on a laugh. “That’s so touching, Mom.”

  She waved her hands. “Oh, you know what I mean.”

  “I do.” I gave her a meaningful glance.

  “What do you mean, Becky?” Robin asked, her tone wary, and I was reminded that even though Robin called my father Dad, she had always called my mother Becky. I think she avoided saying the word Mom because she didn’t want to be reminded that her own mother had been less than nurturing, to say the least.

  Dad was frowning. “Yeah. What kind of crap?”

  The doorbell rang.

  “Saved by the bell,” Mom muttered.

  Gabriel opened the door without waiting for an invitation and walked in.

  There were more hugs and Robin handed him her wineglass. “I can’t drink this so why don’t you take it?”

  “You sick, babe?”

  “No, I’m pregnant.”

  He stared at her in shock, then quickly grabbed her in a hug. “Wow! That’s fantastic. Congrats, honey.”

  “Thank you, Gabriel.”

  Gabriel held up the wineglass and pointed at Austin. “You, too, buddy.”

  Austin was beaming like a fool. “Thanks, man.”

  I was blinking back fresh tears. It was lovely to see everyone so happy.

  “Here, sweetie,” Mom said, handing Robin a glass of sparkling water with a chunk of lime.

  “Thanks, Becky.” She took a quick sip. “Now let’s get back to all that crap you’ve been through. What happened?”

  Mom dragged her feet, but slowly the story came out. I filled in some blanks, but then Mom kicked into gear and gave us an earful about what had been going on from day one when the festival committee was first formed. I was shocked to hear that Banyan had been such a jackass early on.

  “If he’d been a little nicer, he might’ve gotten everything he wanted.”

  “But no.” Austin scowled. “Once a putz, always a putz.”

  “You know him?” I asked.

  “Oh yeah,” he muttered.

  Dad’s jaw tightened and I could see his anger growing. But Mom didn’t seem to notice as she started in on another horror story about Banyan’s spitefulness. I kept an eye on Dad as she revealed the many confrontations she’d had with the big jerk. By the time she finished, Dad’s teeth were bared and I thought he might start chewing the walls. And was that smoke coming out of his ears?

  “I hate that guy,” Robin said, before Dad could say a word.

  “Yup.” Austin nodded. “He really pissed off Robin.”

  Instantly concerned, I asked, “How? When?”

  “In the supermarket,” Austin said. “Just last week.”

  “That’s right.” Robin sat on the end of the couch. “I still can’t believe it.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, first of all,” she began, “he struts around like he owns the place. It’s so gross. And then he actually pushed me out of the way so he could get a package of ground beef.”

  “Ground beef?” I shook my head. “Was it the last package left in the store?”

  “No. There were a few dozen packages left and they weren’t even on sale. He just wants what he wants when he wants it and has no regard for anyone but himself. He makes me sick.”

  “Everyone I know has had a run-in with him,” Austin said. “The guy’s got a screw loose.”

  “Maybe I do, too,” Robin admitted, “because I was so angry, I kicked him.”

  “Yay, Robin!” I cheered.

  “Well, he just made me so mad. I told him I was here first, and he said, ‘Who cares?’”

  “Oh my God,” Mom murmured. “He’s so awful.”

  “Yeah. So I kicked him and he freaked out. I told him he deserved it. I said, ‘You’re a bully and a toad, and you need to be taught a lesson.’ And then I strutted away.”

  I chuckled at her words, although I was scared to death for my friend. And I realized that Dad’s gentle hands had turned into raging fists. I could tell he was ready to go after Jacob Banyan, and I couldn’t blame him.

  “And then he started to follow me around the store,” Robin continued. “I told him more than once to leave me alone or I’d kick him again, but that only seemed to make him madder. When I left, he followed me out to the parking lot.”

  “Robin, what did you do?” Mom asked.

  “I got in my car, locked the doors, and called Austin. I wasn’t going to have Banyan follow me home and try something there. He didn’t budge, just stood there and watched me, trying to intimidate me as I sat in my car and waited for Austin to show up.”

  “I think I broke the speed limit trying to get there.”

  She smiled at him. “You were there in less than ten minutes.”

  “Pretty good timing,” Gabriel said.

  Austin and Robin lived at the top of Red Mountain on the other side of the Dharma Winery. It was more than a ten-minute ride, for sure.

  “I walked right up to Banyan and stared at him,” Austin said. “After what felt like a long minute, I said, ‘Are you trying to threaten my wife? Why are you staring at her?’ His eyes got real big and round, and he mumbled something stupid and ran off to his car.”

  “Good,” Mom said.

  “Sounds like you scared him silly,” Dad said. “Good job.”

  “He’s just a big bully,” I said in disgust. “Which makes him nothing but a coward.”

  “A dangerous, vicious coward,” Derek added with emphasis.

  “Exactly,” Robin said.

  Gabriel leaned against the mantel and looked thoughtful as he reached for his wineglass. “One o
f these days he’ll pick on the wrong person and get himself killed.”

  Chapter 4

  Mom invited us all to stay for dinner and we enthusiastically agreed. Not only was she a great cook, but she’d cleverly revealed that she still had a bunch of leftover fried chicken she’d made for a recent Fellowship event. Mom’s fried chicken was amazing.

  I was grateful that Austin and Derek took Dad outside to the terrace to talk through the problem of Jacob Banyan. I had watched Dad growing angrier by the second and it was a rare and scary sight to see.

  In the kitchen, Robin and I put together a big green salad while Mom cooked a potful of rice. I set the table and then watched Mom pull a homemade lasagna out of the refrigerator and pop it into the oven. Because who didn’t have an extra dish of homemade lasagna hanging around, just in case? And sure enough, she took out a plastic container of her amazing fried chicken and popped it into the microwave.

  I stopped for a moment and gazed at Robin. “I still can’t believe that the scrawny little girl I’ve known since we were eight years old is pregnant.”

  “I’ve never been scrawny, but it’s crazy, isn’t it?” Robin said with a soft smile.

  “Totally.” I shook my head in wonder. “I’m going to need another glass of wine.”

  “You always were a mean girl,” she grumbled.

  “Hey, I’m drinking for two.” I laughed and gave her a noisy kiss on the cheek. “Besides, you know you’d do the same for me.”

  “True enough.”

  We were deliberately not talking about Banyan. It was as if bringing him up right now would taint the celebration for Robin and Austin. But later, I told myself, we would be looking at what to do about the miserable man who’d actually threatened my mother.

  A few minutes before dinner was ready, Robin and I worked out a schedule of our availability over the next week to drive Mom wherever she needed to go. Because of Robin’s run-in with Banyan and in light of her current pregnant state, she wouldn’t be part of Mom’s protection squad. But I could do it and I volunteered Derek in case I was stuck somewhere else. Robin volunteered Austin. I knew Gabriel would step in if necessary as well, and Dad was usually available at a moment’s notice.

  “Derek’s parents just arrived a few days ago,” I said. “Meg and John will probably be happy to drive you anywhere you’d like to go, too, Mom.”

  “That’s a good idea, Brooklyn,” Mom said, no longer pooh-poohing our insistence that she take precautions.

  It was Robin’s story of encountering Jacob Banyan at the supermarket that had finally changed Mom’s mind. She was now convinced that she needed to take someone with her over the next few days, at least until the book festival was over.

  “Banyan doesn’t even know you,” Mom said, clutching Robin’s hand. “And yet he decided to terrorize you. The man is clearly unbalanced. This is what happens when you neglect your chakras. You turn on people, even strangers, because your own body is fighting your better impulses.”

  I thought she was being a little too understanding of the old creep, but that was Mom for you.

  “Well, I did kick him in the shin,” Robin reminded everyone.

  “After he shoved you out of the way and almost knocked you over,” I countered.

  She nodded. “True.”

  “The man needs more than a chakra tune-up,” I grumbled. “He’s a psycho nutball.” And I hated that this brute had scared the heck out of both Robin and Mom.

  Mom winced. “Robin might’ve been minding her own business, but I have been actively working against him for weeks now. I practically threw him out of the meeting this afternoon.”

  “And now he’s threatened you twice, Mom.” I was glad I’d kept up with my friend Alex’s Krav Maga classes because I was so ready to take him down. Not that I could actually do that, but I did have a few defensive moves I’d been working on so I might be able to hurt him a little. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that because I still had a tendency to freeze up when actually confronted with danger. I mentally brushed that acknowledgment aside. “We can’t let him get close enough to do it again.”

  “Thank you, sweetie.” Mom rubbed her arms. “Right now I’m more worried about Robin than me. The thought of him stalking you up and down the supermarket aisles is giving me shivers.”

  Robin could see Mom’s growing concern and she gave her a hug. Then she turned and gave me a warning look. “Let’s put it out of our minds for now and enjoy a beautiful dinner.”

  “Great idea,” I said. It was definitely time to change the subject. I especially didn’t want to get Dad all heated up again. Mom arranged the fried chicken on a big platter and we carried everything out to the table.

  My parents’ house was the center for all of us. The furniture and paint colors might change, depending on their moods at the time, but it was always our home, the place where we had gathered for the important events in our lives. We’d all grown up here—and I include Robin in that because she was in and out of our house just like the rest of us.

  There had been battles between the siblings until one or both of our parents had sat us down to remind us that we were a family, and that we should let our love for each other overcome our petty differences. We’d had parties in this house that all the neighbors had attended. We’d cried with those same neighbors after funerals. This house, these walls, were a comfort that we drew on even when we didn’t know we needed it.

  And the heart of this house was Mom and Dad.

  We all sat down to eat, and rather than continuing the ugly subject of Jacob Banyan, we all began to ask Robin questions about the baby and about her health and her diet, and whether they knew if it was a girl or a boy, and whether she would have a C-section or natural birth, and every invasive thing we could think of until she finally begged us to stop.

  With a laugh, I said, “Okay, let’s move on to another topic. I want to know why Saffron Bergeron is such a nasty, mean-spirited crank.”

  “Good question,” Robin muttered.

  “She really is nasty,” Mom admitted with reluctance. “And I don’t know why. She’s so rude to me and I’ve always tried to be nice to her.”

  “Maybe that’s why,” Gabriel suggested with a shrug. “She’s naturally an unpleasant woman, so having you be nice to her only underlines her own lack of compassion.”

  Mom stared at him, then nodded. “That’s very deep, dear. I think you may have a point.”

  I ducked my head to hide a smile, then forked up a tender morsel of chicken, ready to pop it in my mouth. But then I stopped when I thought of another point to make. “What I didn’t like was the way she went on and on about the Fellowship. How we’re a cult and we have clandestine meetings, blah-blah-blah.” I scowled. “That whole cult thing really bugs me. She’s lived here long enough to know it’s not true.”

  “Oh, honey,” Mom said kindly. “We’ve been putting up with that nonsense since the day we moved to Sonoma. Don’t let it bother you.”

  I set down my fork. “What bothers me is that she did it to you, Mom. As you say, you’re always nice to her. You’re nice to everybody. You go out of your way to help people. And so does Guru Bob, for that matter. So it’s really annoying to hear people like Saffron Bergeron spout that bogus crap as though it’s a well-known fact.”

  “Some people are just stupid,” Robin said philosophically.

  I smiled wryly and pointed my fork at her. “That’s the answer, right there.”

  Mom was right. Ever since we had moved to Sonoma more than twenty-five years ago, the “cult” thing had been an issue. Not constantly, but every so often. It usually happened when some ambitious journalist would drive up to Dharma, anxious to capture the “real story” of the Fellowship. Invariably he or she had heard rumors that a bunch of hippie-dippie types had formed a commune and were trying to start their own winery. And ooh, they followed some holy
guy. Must be a cult!

  But we were never a cult. We were never actually a commune, for that matter. We didn’t share our belongings with each other or grow vegetables for the good of the group. In Israel we might’ve been known as a kibbutz, but even that term didn’t describe the Fellowship. We lived in our own homes and our families went their own ways in terms of employment and income and schools. But we supported each other in other ways and we all contributed to the winery and the vineyards and the other common buildings like the town hall and the theater and exhibit center. And my parents tried to live by the teachings and philosophy of Robson Benedict.

  That ambitious journalist undoubtedly dreamed of winning the Pulitzer Prize for the big exposé they would write about Guru Bob and his followers, including my parents and all of our friends and how we were living off the land, bilking our neighbors, and running around naked under the harvest moon. Or something along those lines.

  It was insulting and stupid and completely false, which every journalist was forced, in the end, to admit. Mom was right, we’d grown used to it over the years. But that didn’t mean I would forgive and forget.

  Early on, my parents had schooled us on what to say if we were ever approached by a writer or a reporter. We would simply be friendly and tell the truth. What else could we do? The writer would draw his or her own conclusions, no matter what we said. Many of them would end up basing their story on gossip they picked up from people like Saffron Bergeron and her ilk. We had been dealing with that kind of ignorance for many years.

  “Saffron’s just a miserable person,” I said.

  Robin set down her fork. “And that’s why she hates your mom. It’s like Gabriel said. Becky is a naturally happy person and Saffron can’t stand it.”

  I sighed. “All Guru Bob wants is for everyone to live in peace and be happy.” It was the reason he’d eventually opened Dharma to people outside the Fellowship, to own property and live.

  “That’s totally true,” Dad said, then grinned. “Guess it’s no wonder Saffron hates the Fellowship.”

  “That’s completely twisted,” I said, shaking my head. “But since we’re talking about Saffron, it makes perfect sense.”