“Should I help?” Carlynn asked Penny as she stared out the bedroom window in the direction of the cries.
Penny shook her head. “No. Believe me, they don’t want a doctor in there,” she said. “They don’t particularly trust doctors here.”
Except to hand out antibiotics when they contract a sexually transmitted disease, Carlynn thought.
She spent the morning working with Penny some more, listening to her and gently placing her hands on her throat. At lunch that afternoon, Penny said something in a perfectly natural voice and everyone turned to look at her. Instantly, the whisper was back, but Penny got up and did a little jig across the wood-plank floor of the cabin.
Walking back to Cornflower, they passed Rainbow Cabin and could hear an occasional cry, more of a scream really, from the mother-to-be inside. Johnny Angel chopped wood at the side of the cabin without seeming to notice the two women passing by.
“I thought you said the men help deliver their babies?” Carlynn asked.
“Most do,” Penny said. “But Johnny’s freaking out, I think. Poor kid.”
She worked with Penny’s voice for an hour, then sat with her on the sofa in the small living room, sewing patches on several pairs of Penny’s well-worn jeans. Suddenly, there was the sound of steps on the front porch, and Johnny Angel burst into the cabin. His face was ashen, his hands raised in panic.
“The baby’s not breathing!” he said.
Carlynn dropped her sewing and ran toward the door, Penny and Johnny close behind her. “Which way?” she asked as she stepped off the porch into the fog.
Johnny grabbed her arm and ran with her toward the cabin he shared with his young girlfriend, but he stopped, frozen at the front steps.
“In there.” He pointed inside.
Carlynn looked at him squarely. “Your girlfriend will need you,” she said, taking him by the wrist and nearly dragging him inside with her.
Felicia was on her knees on the mattress, crouched between the young mother’s legs, holding a bluish baby. Carlynn dropped to her own knees beside her.
“The cord was wrapped around her neck,” Felicia said, handing the infant to her.
Carlynn placed the baby girl on the bloodstained newspapers that covered the mattress, then bent over her to perform CPR, covering the tiny nose and mouth with her own mouth, gently blowing air into her lungs, then pressing with two of her fingers on the infant’s breastbone.
“I’ve tried CPR,” said Felicia, but Carlynn continued puffing and pressing. After a moment, she felt Felicia’s hand on her shoulder.
“She’s gone,” Felicia said gently. “She’s gone.”
“No!” Ellen cried from the bed, struggling to raise herself up, trying to see. “No, please!”
Holding the baby with one hand on her back, the other against her chest, Carlynn lifted her until her own lips touched the infant’s temple. Shutting her eyes, she willed every ounce of her strength and energy and breath and life into the child. Her body began to rock, very slowly, in time with her breathing. She couldn’t have said how long she sat that way, rocking, breathing, holding the child between her hands, but after a while, she felt a flutter beneath her right hand, a twisting of tiny muscles beneath her left, and when she opened her eyes, the baby girl let out a whimper, then a wail. Carlynn became aware of her surroundings again as if rising up from a dream, and by the time she wrapped the baby in the flannel blanket Felicia handed her, the child was pink and beautiful.
She found herself strangely reluctant to relinquish the baby, and she held her for another moment, running her hand over the infant’s dark hair before reaching forward to hand her to Ellen. Then she walked outside, still dazed and a little dizzy from her efforts, to find that the fog had burned off, and sunlight followed her to Penny’s cabin.
She slept the rest of that afternoon and most of the following day, and when she awakened, the air outside the window was growing dark. Penny sat on the other mattress and told her the baby was nursing well and appeared healthy.
“They named her Shanti Joy Angel,” she said, her voice a whisper.
Carlynn giggled.
“They’re all on to you now, Carly,” Penny said. “A few of them had heard of Carlynn Shire, but they hadn’t made the connection to you till now. They were all ready to come to you with their sniffles and rashes and bellyaches, but I told them that’s not what you’re here for.”
“Thanks,” Carlynn said. “I’m sorry, though, that I lost time for treating you.”
“That hardly matters in light of things,” Penny said. “You must be starving. You haven’t eaten since yesterday. I brought you some food from dinner. Does it always take this much out of you? The healing?”
Carlynn stretched and smiled. “That little baby took everything I had, Penny,” she said. “But I’m fine now, and after lunch we’ll get back to work on you. How long have I been sleeping?”
“You arrived Saturday. The baby was born yesterday afternoon, and now, it’s Monday night.”
“I can’t believe it.” Carlynn sat up. “I’m a lazy lump.”
“I brought you some rice and veggies,” Penny said. “They’re still a little bit warm from dinner. You ready for them?”
Carlynn nodded. “But then I have to find a phone somewhere, Penny,” she said. “I have to call Alan and tell him I’ll be here a few more days.”
“The nearest phone is miles and miles away,” Penny said. “I tell you what. Everyone’s agreed that you should have the next shower. The water’s heated up and ready for you. So, how about you get up, go use the shower, have some food, and meanwhile, I’ll borrow your car and go call Alan. How’s that sound?”
She would have liked to speak with Alan herself, but the thought of a shower, food and a little more time in bed sounded even more appealing at that moment. “All right,” she said. “Oh! But my car is on empty.”
“I’ll borrow Terence’s van, then. Just give me the number.”
She wrote down Alan’s numbers at both the center and their row house, as well as Lisbeth and Gabriel’s, in case Penny had trouble finding Alan. Then she dragged herself out of bed, picked up one of Penny’s flashlights from the floor and headed outside, walking toward the latrine.
The rest of the week went quickly, and it was a week Carlynn knew she had needed for herself. She’d had no vacations the past few years. The center was truly her life, and she had never considered taking a break from it, but the peace here, the lack of contact with newspapers and television and the rest of the world, was rejuvenating beyond anything she might have expected. She enjoyed holding the baby whose life she had, perhaps, saved, and the thought of leaving the infant, of never seeing her again, was distressing in a way she couldn’t understand. Everyone at the commune called the baby’s survival a miracle, but she was not sure. All she knew was that she could now hold in her arms a beautiful little girl who would probably not have survived had she not been at the commune. Maybe that had been the reason for Penny losing her voice, everyone said, to draw Carlynn here at that exact moment, to make her part of some huge, cosmic plan. Carlynn neither knew nor cared if their rationale was the truth. That sort of thinking only annoyed the scientist in her.
Penny’s voice came back in force on Thursday morning, and Thursday night there was a celebration around the bonfire in honor of Carlynn Shire, the straight woman doctor who turned down marijuana and hashish and LSD and cheap wine, who had given them Shanti Joy and had allowed them to hear Penny’s true voice in song for the first time.
Lisbeth was typing letters for Carlynn when Alan walked into the reception office at the Carlynn Shire Medical Center the following afternoon. He stood in the doorway, his hands on his hips.
“When the heck is Carlynn coming home?” he asked.
Lisbeth turned to look at him. She understood Alan’s frustration. She, too, felt the void Carlynn left by not being at the center, and Alan had to be experiencing it at home, as well. That they were unable to communicate w
ith Carlynn except through that one phone call from Penny made her absence that much more difficult.
“This weekend, I’m sure,” Lisbeth said. “She has to be back by Monday, because her appointments start up again then.”
“I feel like I don’t know her anymore,” Alan said glumly.
“Oh, Alan, that’s silly.”
“I know, but I haven’t gone a day without talking to her in over ten years.”
“Maybe she’s been seduced by communal life,” she joked, but Alan looked so distraught that she wished she’d kept her mouth shut. “Why don’t we go get her?” she suggested.
Alan looked surprised. “I’d thought of that myself, actually, but I don’t even know where she is, exactly.”
“Well, we know she’s in a commune in Big Sur,” Lisbeth said. “We can ask around. The locals will probably know where it is.”
Alan looked at his watch. “All right. If you’re serious, let’s do it.”
“Let me call Gabe and see if he wants to go with us,” she said, excited at the thought of the adventure.
“It’s nearly four o’clock,” Alan said. “I have some notes to finish up. Should we wait until tomorrow?”
“No,” Lisbeth said, suddenly anxious to get on the road. “Let’s go tonight.”
“We won’t be able to find anything in the dark,” Alan protested.
“I know a lodge where we can stay,” Lisbeth said. Lloyd Peterson had once told her about a lodge he liked in Big Sur. “Might be tough to get a room, since it’s a Friday, but let me try. That way, we’d be there bright and early tomorrow and could start looking.”
Alan nodded and smiled. “I can’t wait to see her,” he said. “Thanks, Liz.”
There was a full moon hanging in the sky over the ocean, but the winding road was still too dark for Lisbeth’s comfort. They were nearing Big Sur on Highway One. The little reflectors built into the line in the middle of the road formed a long string of lights, and she and Alan were alone out here. It was spooky, she thought. They didn’t see another car as Lisbeth’s Volkswagen Beetle crept around each curve.
“It’s actually better to drive this road at night than in the daytime,” Alan reassured her. “You can see the lights of cars coming around the curve. In the daytime, you’d have no idea what’s waiting for you around the bend.”
Lisbeth supposed he was right, but still she turned each corner gingerly, her stomach beginning to protest a little. Gabriel had been unable to come with them, and she was driving, since Alan thought he was a better navigator. The green bug strained a bit on the inclines, and she was relieved when they found the road leading to the lodge. She pulled into the parking lot close to the building.
Inside the lodge, the man behind the desk handed them a key.
“It’s for one of the cabins behind the main building,” he said. “Number four. Very nice. Fully furnished.”
“We need two beds, though,” Lisbeth said.
“Right,” the man said. “It has two twins. You can push them together if you like.”
“Thank you,” Alan said. “And by the way, we’re looking for a commune that’s near here. Would you know of it?”
“That depends on which one you’re looking for. There’s a few of them. Gordo. Redwood. Cabrial. What do you want to go to one of those places for? Just a bunch of filthy hippies.”
“We’re picking up a family member who’s visiting there,” Lisbeth said, disappointed to learn there were several communes in the area and trying to remember if Carlynn had mentioned the name of Penny’s. None of those names sounded familiar, and she wondered if this had been such a great idea, after all.
But Alan looked unperturbed. “You go ahead to the cabin,” he told her. “I’ll stay here and get directions to the different communes.”
It was a bit unnerving walking to the cabin alone. The path through the woods was lighted, but Lisbeth was still relieved when she found the cabin and stepped inside. It was spare, with a living room, bedroom, small kitchenette and bathroom with a claustrophobic shower, but it was clean, and luxurious surroundings were not what she and Alan were after.
Alan returned to the cabin around ten o’clock, several sheets of notes in his hand.
“Well,” he said as he lay down on one of the beds, fully clothed, “I think we can find her if she’s at one of these three places. If she’s somewhere else, we’re out of luck.”
Lisbeth fell asleep quickly, but it was only a short while later that she was awakened by Alan shaking her shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, trying to see her watch in the dark. “What time is it?”
“It’s eleven,” Alan said. “And I can’t sleep. I’m going to take the car and those directions I got from the innkeeper and see if I can find her. Do you want to go with me?”
“No.” She sat up. “And I don’t want you to go, either. You’ll just be wandering around in the dark out there on those little roads.”
“Better than lying here staring at the ceiling.” Alan picked up her car keys from the old dresser and left the cabin.
Carlynn had the commune practically to herself. Many of the adults and nearly all of the children, who’d been roused from their beds in what seemed to Carlynn to be a misguided attempt at adventure, were on a moonlight nature walk. From where she lay on her mattress in Penny’s cabin, Carlynn could hear the occasional cry of a baby, and she knew that at least Shanti Joy Angel and her parents were nearby. That gave her some comfort. It was remarkably light outside tonight. There was no fog at all, and the moon was full, which was precisely why the nature seekers had grabbed this opportunity for their walk.
An hour earlier, Johnny Angel had come to Cornflower, asking her if she would take a look at Shanti Joy.
“She has a fever, I think,” Johnny had said, and Carlynn had walked with him over to Rainbow.
She found Shanti nursing strongly from Ellen’s breast, and her forehead felt cool to her touch.
“What made you think she had a fever?” she asked Johnny.
“She was crying, and she hardly ever cries,” he said. “And she seemed flushed to me.”
Ellen and Carlynn exchanged a smile. Johnny was an over-anxious new father, and it was not the first time he had come to Carlynn with a concern about his baby daughter since her dramatic birth. She didn’t mind, though. She welcomed any chance to hold the baby.
She rested her hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “Shanti is fine,” she said. “And you are going to be an exceptional dad.”
She left Johnny Angel and his family and walked back to Cornflower alone, enjoying the play of moonlight on the trees and shrubs and glad that Penny had gone with the walkers so she had some time for herself. She was longing for home. It had been a wonderful week, but she’d had her fill of rice and vegetables, naked children, guitar music late into the night, and wondering over breakfast who had slept with whom the night before. Tomorrow she would head back to Monterey, her work here finished, and all she could think of was seeing Alan and her sister and Gabriel. She’d tried not to think too much about Alan this week, knowing she couldn’t talk to him and that thinking about him would only make their separation that much harder, but now her head was full of him, and she felt near tears as she drifted off to sleep.
“God, I’ve missed you.” It was a man’s voice, soft and close to her ear, and Carlynn’s eyes sprang open to see Alan sitting on the side of her bed, his hand stroking her hair back from her forehead. Moonlight bathed the room and allowed her to see the love in his eyes. She sat up with a girlish squeal of delight and threw her arms around him.
“I’m dreaming,” she said. “Are you really here?”
There were times she had wondered if she truly loved Alan or if theirs was a partnership based on a passion for their work rather than for each other. But in that moment, she knew the truth. Her love for him filled her.
“I’m really here,” he said. “Are you ever coming home?”
“Oh, yes! Tomorrow,
” she said. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long, and it’s been terrible not being able to call you. And how is everyone? And what’s going on at the cen—”
“Come with me now,” he said. “Lisbeth and I drove down here to spirit you away from this place and take you home with us.”
“Is Lisbeth here?” She peered behind him.
“We rented a cabin not too far from here. She’s there. And you will be, too, if you’d get up and get dressed.”
“How did you ever find me?”
“Well, it wasn’t easy,” he said. “I visited another commune before coming here. This place seemed deserted, but I heard a baby crying. I went to that cabin and the baby’s father—”
“Johnny Angel,” she interrupted him with a grin.
“Whatever you say.” Alan smiled with a roll of his eyes. “He told me where you were. Said everyone else was out on a nature walk or something.”
“Yes, they are. I should probably wait till they get back before I—”
“Come now,” Alan pleaded. “They’ve had you long enough.”
“Okay,” she agreed. She lit one of the lanterns so she could dress and pack her suitcase. On the back of one of the sheets of directions Alan had brought with him, she scribbled a note to Penny, then left the cabin with her husband, arm in arm.
“Oh!” she said when they reached the area where her car was parked. “My car’s nearly empty. Keep an eye on me in your rearview mirror in case I run out, okay?”
“These roads would be a bad place to run out of gas,” Alan said. “Especially at night.”
“I know,” she said. “I think I’ve got a smidgen left. But just in case, watch me.”
“I’m never taking my eyes off you again,” Alan said, squeezing her shoulders.
Carlynn’s car made it to the cabin without a problem, although the needle was below the empty line by then. They would have to find gas somewhere in the morning and bring it back to her car before she drove it anywhere, but for the moment it didn’t matter. She and Alan awakened Lisbeth, and the three of them spent much of the rest of the night lounging on the two twin beds and talking. Carlynn told them about life at the commune, assuring both of them that she’d had nothing to do with the bed-hopping that left them wide-eyed with disbelief and disgust. She told them about the drugs and about healing Penny’s voice, and that Penny would be in a musical next year about hippies and long hair. She told them about the infant, Shanti Joy, and the moment she started breathing in her arms.