That summer, Aaron had started to send members to sabotage logging equipment, where they were working in the mountain, then he’d had a vision that we should spike the trees, so the chain saws kicked back. Willow hadn’t agreed with the idea, worried about hurting someone, and Joseph had been furious, shouting, “The Light’s going to punish us all if we don’t obey his message.”
Aaron gripped Joseph’s arm, holding him still as his body reared, like a young bull ready to charge the crowd. Aaron whispered something to him. Joseph studied the members, holding eye contact with each of us until we looked away. Willow was the only one who held his gaze, and I wanted to yell at her, to warn her that she was going to make it worse, but I was frozen in fear.
Finally, almost vibrating with anger, Joseph said, “We have to destroy anyone who’s hurting the earth. If we don’t, something bad is going happen. I can feel it.” He grabbed his head in his hands. “In here.”
His words sent gasps and murmurs through the group.
Aaron just said, “Come on, Joseph. Let’s hear what the others have to say.”
Joseph’s mouth was open as he breathed heavily, his gaze going from person to person, but his voice was terrifyingly calm as he said, “As you wish,” then walked off.
Aaron turned back to the group. “Do you all agree with Willow?”
Tension rippled through the members. My body filled with dread as I waited for their answer. What was going to happen if they said yes? They’d never gone against Aaron before. Would he make her leave? I held my breath.
Then one member nodded, and another. The rest followed.
Aaron smiled and said, “Then I’ll meditate and find another way.” He then headed toward the lodge, his hands clasped in front of him, his head bowed.
The members stared after him, or looked at one another in concern. Though Aaron had appeared understanding, they were obviously worried that he was upset. I was also worried about his reaction, which had seemed too calm. Some members might’ve gone after him, but Willow turned to everyone with a smile.
“Let’s go swimming before we melt in the heat!” The members, relieved to have someone tell them how to feel about the experience, started laughing and running down to the river. Robbie and Willow walked behind everyone, talking about something. I walked even slower, trying to hear what they were saying, but I couldn’t make anything out. Robbie glanced back at me once, his face unreadable.
* * *
At the river, everyone stripped off their clothes and dove in. Most of the members were naked, as usual, but some men wore jeans shorts, and a few women wore bikinis. Coyote, who was Levi’s father, was on the other side, climbing up the rock bluff at the end of the pool. Members called out, daring him to jump. Coyote, as wild as his name, would always take the highest dives into the river. He’d try to get Levi to join him, but Levi would only jump from the lower rocks, smiling when his father called him “chicken,” but I’d see the hurt in his eyes. Robbie could leap from the higher rocks, but when Levi was there, he’d stay at the same level.
This day, I stayed on the commune side of the river with the other children, and, never a strong swimmer, I walked partway out, my knees numb in the cold water. Robbie was sunning himself on the shore on the far side, his shorts wet and his hair dripping. He shook his head like a dog, sending droplets onto Willow, who was nearby with the other women and my mother. She scooped up some water and threw it at him, the spray sparkling in the sun.
Coyote, almost at the top of the cliff, where an old log jutted out, stopped to howl. We all laughed, then fell silent when he crawled out onto the log. Levi, who’d been with the group of girls, made his way toward his father, his long legs flashing white as he jumped from rock to rock.
Coyote crawled farther out on the log, which was precariously balanced over the river. It wobbled for a moment, then righted itself. The group below let out a gasp. His wife, Heidi, called up, “Coyote, come down!”
He grinned, checked that we were all still watching, and crawled out another couple of inches.
Robbie stood with his shoulders tense and his hand across his brow, blocking the sun. As Levi started to climb the cliff behind his father, his foot knocked a small rock off a ledge. It bounced, hitting against the cliff on its way down, splashing into the water. Coyote, distracted by the sound, turned in its direction, shifting his body weight. There was an audible crack as the log began to break away from the bank. Heidi let out a scream as Levi yelled, “Dad!”
Coyote plunged into the water, the log crashing in on top of him. Levi scrambled back down the cliff. The other members, Robbie in the lead, were all swimming toward the spot where Coyote had disappeared. Robbie dove down. He came up, motioned for help, then Levi dove in beside him. They were down for so long that I began to sob, great gasping gulps of air. Finally Robbie came up, Coyote’s limp body under his arm. Levi popped up next. They swam to the shore, pulling Coyote behind them. When they’d gotten him up on the rocks, Willow crouched down, motioning everyone back. Heidi was screaming. Robbie and Willow worked feverishly on Coyote: Willow giving mouth-to-mouth and Robbie doing chest compressions. Willow stopped, said something to Robbie.
Still standing in the water, my entire body shaking, I saw Coyote’s head roll to the side, his hand limp and his mouth open, blood dripping from a gash in his forehead. Aaron was now running down the hill with Joseph, drawn to the screaming. When they got to the other side, Aaron tried to find Coyote’s pulse, put his ear to his mouth. Then he looked at us and said, “He’s dead.”
Aaron and Robbie lifted Coyote and carried him back to the commune, laying him on the table. We gathered around, somber and quiet, some weeping. Heidi just moaned in broken grief. Water dripped off Coyote’s wet jeans shorts, pooling around his body. He was the first dead person I’d ever seen.
Aaron motioned us to come closer as he stood at the head of the table. His face was grave and his eyes damp. “We’ve lost a member of our family, and I know you’re sad—I am too, I loved Coyote. But I promise you that he’s in a better place.” He looked at Levi, who was staring at his father’s body, rivulets of water from his wet hair mixing with tears and dripping down his face. Aaron clasped him on the shoulder. “Coyote’s not gone. His energy’s all around us.” He looked at the group. “But so are the negative energies that caused his accident.” The group made confused whispers, unsure of what Aaron meant. He said, “One of the members denied my vision, and so we’ve been punished.”
Now everyone got it. Subtle tones of anger waved out toward Willow as they made the connection. Willow stepped back, looking fearful for the first time.
Aaron stared at her for a moment and turned away. “We need to learn from this, or we won’t be able to ascend to the next spiritual level and join our brother. Coyote has given us a great gift. We shouldn’t grieve. We should be thankful.”
The commune murmured excitedly. We’d witnessed death, but Aaron’s belief that Coyote’s spirit was still alive gave us hope, and we grasped at it. No one wanted to face that we’d never see Coyote again.
He said, “Now let’s get back to work, and later in meditation, some of you may be able to connect with Coyote.” He focused in on Willow. “We’ll talk about your spiritual path after meditation.”
She nodded, her face concerned.
* * *
The police came and took statements, the coroner leaving with Coyote’s body. A couple of hours later, Heidi miscarried. For the rest of the day, the commune was in turmoil, speaking in hushed voices, anxious for our next Satsang, and avoiding Willow. None of them wanted to end up like Coyote and Heidi.
Aaron had taken Willow into his cabin for a private meditation, and when they emerged, Aaron announced that Willow was now ready to “accept his visions.” Willow agreed, but she still looked troubled.
The next afternoon, I noticed Willow frowning again during our Sunday spiritual class when Aaron reminded us that we had to share all our belongings or we weren’t truly li
ving as a family. Many of the members went to their tents and brought out belongings, swapping with other members, thanking them with smiles and hugs. After dinner, Aaron sent the group for our reflective walk but said that Willow was going to stay behind and meditate on her lesson from the day before. Joseph came with us, but Aaron was also going to stay and tend the animals.
As I followed the group up the trail, I glanced back and noticed Willow and Robbie talking at the edge of the forest. Then Robbie spun around and headed toward the logging road that led away from the commune. I caught a movement by the barn and realized that Aaron had been watching. Willow walked toward the river. Aaron followed. I wanted to sneak down to the commune and see what they were doing, but when I looked back up the hill, my mother was motioning for me.
The members splintered off into little groups, or found a quiet spot to meditate alone. Joseph drifted into the woods. One member was always appointed to stay back at camp and ring the chimes, signaling that our reflection walk was over. Aaron had said he’d do it. This time he left us to meditate for a long time, and when we got back it was getting dark. The group decided to have a late swim. I noticed that Willow and Robbie were missing, but Aaron joined us at the river. After the children were sent to their cabin, I stayed awake, worried about Robbie. I tried to make out voices at the campfire and could hear Aaron, and once in a while my mother and other members, but I still couldn’t hear Robbie.
The next day at breakfast, I was excited to see that Robbie was back, but when I ran toward him, I realized something was wrong and stopped as though an invisible wall had slammed down between us. His skin was pale, his hair messy, damp tendrils sticking to his forehead. His eyes were also red-rimmed and bloodshot. And he was holding his hands funny, like they hurt, the knuckles skinned. I wondered where he’d been all night. Then my next thought was, He should ask Willow for some salve. When I glanced around, I couldn’t see her.
Everyone gathered for our morning meditation, but before Aaron started leading us through the chants, he motioned us closer and told us that Willow had left early that morning. “I tried to talk her out of going, but she wouldn’t listen. She said she was tired of being in one place and wanted to travel again.”
When Aaron sent everyone off to meditate and clear the bad feelings that Willow’s abrupt departure had created, I snuck to her tent, searching for a note, an explanation, something. All I found was a hand-sewn patchwork bag tucked under her pillow. Inside were a few items of clothing and homemade toiletries.
Aaron came in after me. “What are you doing in here?”
I clutched her belongings to my chest as I stared up at him, my pulse loud in my head. “I don’t understand why Willow left.”
Then I realized he was wearing Willow’s vest.
His face was calm, but his tone warning. “She didn’t like living as a group, so this wasn’t the right place for her. Each member has to do what’s good for everyone, not just ourselves, or we all suffer.”
A question flew out of my mouth before I could pull it back. “Why do you have her vest?”
“She left it by the campfire this morning.” He looked down at it, fingered one of the tassels. “The Light wanted me to have it.”
* * *
Some members were upset that Willow was gone, especially so soon after Coyote had died, but Aaron said that we shouldn’t forget that her negative vibe led to Coyote’s death and that she’d been causing problems in the commune. We’d get along better without her. The only people who ever seemed to have a problem with her were Joseph and Aaron, but now that she’d left, the group was quickly forgetting that detail. Aaron also reminded us that we couldn’t let Coyote’s death be in vain, and we had to try to learn from his and Willow’s mistakes. Coyote’s life had been sacrificed in the river so that we could save ours. That’s when the commune started calling themselves The River of Life, and one of the men carved a sign for the tree at the entrance, two hands reaching up to the light.
* * *
I don’t know how long we would’ve lived at the commune if a little boy hadn’t died. His name was Finn, and he was eighteen months old when he wandered off during a late-night campfire ceremony. It was late September, and by the time his stoned parents, who also had a two-month-old baby, realized he was gone he’d been missing for hours. Everyone was woken up and we searched all over, but we couldn’t find him. The commune had a meeting to decide whether to go to the police. It was a risk because they had marijuana plants drying in the barn, and we’d already garnered attention with Coyote’s death.
Finally, Aaron meditated in the sweat lodge and said he’d had a vision that Finn was hiding somewhere warm and because he’d been taught to eat berries and find water, he’d be okay. In the morning, we still couldn’t find him, so we meditated as a group, chanting to bring him home, but Aaron said our fear was blocking his connection with the other side now. Finn’s parents took one of the trucks and went to the station. The police found Finn later that day, facedown in a puddle, his tiny hand still stained with berries. He had died of exposure.
Everyone was devastated. Aaron himself looked upset, holding the wooden horse he’d given Finn, but he stood tall and said, “In my vision, he was okay. I thought it meant he was still with us, but I understand now that was a sign that he’s safe on the other side.” In the days after, Aaron spent a lot of time working with us to reach Finn’s spirit. His face intense as he led us in chants, his voice sure and strong. Sometimes in a meditation, Finn’s mother would start to cry, saying that she’d seen him and how peaceful he’d looked, bathed in light. Others said the same, but no matter how hard I tried, I could never see him.
After Finn died, my mother started having long, private meditations with Aaron, but it didn’t seem to help. She stayed in her cabin for hours, cried a lot, and I often saw her talking with the other women, her face sad. Since Willow had left, Robbie had been spending all his time fishing in the river. I tried to talk to him about Mom, and he told me not to worry about it. She was just upset about Finn. He’d speak to her. Not long after that, our father finally came to get us.
* * *
A truck pulled up at the commune when we were in the middle of dinner. I recognized it right away and got up from the table, saying, “That’s my dad!” Robbie also stood, but our mother was still sitting, her eyes anxious.
The truck stopped a few feet away. Dad got out, his dirty baseball hat scrunched down over his head, his face angry, and his hands tense by his sides.
Now Aaron stood and said, “Can we help you?”
“I’ve come for my family.” Dad motioned for us. I took a step, but then I looked at Aaron, who held up a hand. I stopped. Robbie was also standing still, his expression full of relief as he gazed at our father. Our mother hadn’t moved. I glanced over at her. Her eyes were wide and her mouth parted.
Aaron said, “They have a new family now.”
My dad said, “Kids, get your stuff.”
I felt a movement to my left. My mother was starting to rise, but slowly, cautiously, her face scared. She looked at my dad, then Aaron, hesitation in her eyes. I was shot full of fear. I wanted to leave, but I was afraid my dad was going to punish us for having run away. I couldn’t tell what my mom was scared about—my dad or leaving. Robbie was moving away from the table now, toward his tent, but he was walking slowly, looking back at my mom, waiting for her. She finally started toward her cabin, but as she passed Aaron, he grabbed her arm.
“Kate, think about what you’re doing. Your children are safe here.”
Standing by the truck door, my dad said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Aaron glanced at him, then instantly let go of my mother. I looked at my father, and realized he was now holding a rifle down by his legs. He must’ve had it on the floorboards.
My dad said, “My family’s going to get their belongings and our animals. Then they’re leaving with me. You got a problem with that?”
Aaron calmly said, ??
?Hey, man. We don’t want any problems here. If they want to split, they can go anytime.”
The trailer was still parked behind the barn, and Mom and Robbie quickly loaded the horses. Terrified of what might happen once we got home and confused about why my father had shown up after all these months, I was standing transfixed, watching them. Robbie motioned for me to get moving. I grabbed Jake and the cats, putting them in the cab of the truck, with my bag of belongings. I kept glancing at the table, where the group was watching us, some of them looking confused, others upset. I wanted to say good-bye, but when I moved toward the table, Robbie grabbed my arm. “We’ve gotta go.”
That was the last time I saw any of them.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The evening after my session with Heather, I went to grab my bike out of the shed, just like I had many nights since I moved there, but this time the small space made me break out in a sweat and my heart race. I gripped the handles on my bike and tried to back out quickly, but a garden tool fell over and jammed in one of the wheels. In a full panic now, I yanked on the tool, but my palms were slippery, and my hand slammed backward against the wall, scratching my knuckles.
After I finally got my bike out, I wheeled it down my driveway, sucking the small wound, angry at myself. Earlier that day, I’d also panicked when I was waiting for the elevator to the parking lot. The doors opened, and I hadn’t been able to get in, even though there were no people standing inside. I had to take the stairs, fighting nausea in the cramped stairwell until I’d finally pushed the metal doors open and flung myself out into the light, breathing in big gulps of fresh air.