Chapter Twenty Five
When I got home I Googled Lake Arrowhead and learned a little about it. I sensed that it wasn’t a coincidence that I envisioned myself driving to that town just a moment before Deborah insisted that I had said I was vacationing there. What Maggie had said, that God would grant me visions, that idea returned to me, and I all but knew that this was an act of Him. The question was, why Lake Arrowhead and what was I to do there? And when, exactly? Leave tonight? Next week? I hoped God wasn’t wanting me to leave before Valentine’s Day. The idea of breaking my first date with Deborah was an ugly one.
When I was driving the mountain road in my vision it had been snowing, and hard. That seemed like a good way to estimate the days I was supposed to be down there. I checked Weatherchannel.com and it was indeed supposed to snow in Arrowhead, but not till Monday. I was ecstatic. I could leave the morning after my date.
On Saturday I went to Men’s Warehouse to buy a nicer pair of shoes to compliment my suit. I splurged and bought a hundred-dollar pair of black leather ones. The salesman assisting me asked if I wanted to take a look at suits or tuxedoes today. I shook my head no but said yes. It confused my poor helper.
“Yes?” he said.
Yes was the correct answer, I felt it in my heart. It was a reflexive answer given to me by providence. “Yes, but nothing too expensive, please. I’m on a budget.”
He hooked me up with a cheap tux for just under two-hundred bucks, and threw in a white shirt and black bow-tie.
I left the department store muttering, “What in God’s name am I about to do?”
The next morning was Valentine’s Day. The day that would live in infamy, though I couldn’t have known it then. I awoke with a smile. Deborah was my first thought, and she didn’t leave my mind until my cellphone rang. It wasn’t a number from my contact’s list, but the area code was my own.
“Hello,” I said to the unknown caller.
“Who is this?” asked a girl.
“Aaron Mendelssohn.”
There was silence on the other end. She then whispered, “Oh my...”
“Who is this?” I asked.
“You probably won’t remember me, but I used to go to your church, Sunday school. My name is Brooke Stanwick.”
“Tinkerbelle! Not remember you? Of course I do! Wow, how the heck are you?”
Her voice suggested she was uneasy. “A little spooked, I guess. I just intentionally dialed a random number and it ended up being yours.”
“Really?”
“You’re going to think I’m nuts.”
“Trust me, Brooke, I won’t think you’re nuts. Nothing you could tell me would make me think that. Not as of late.”
“Ever hear a voice in your head, telling you things? But it’s your own voice?”
“Yes. Yes I have,” I said as a matter of fact.
“Good. I’m glad. I’m not psycho, then. Or if I am, we’re both psycho.”
I chuckled.
“I don’t know why,” she said, “but I got it in my head that you’re driving to a place called Lake Arrowhead and I should be going with you. That means nothing, right?”
I was agape and speechless.
“Mr. Mendelssohn?”
I cleared my throat. “Call me Aaron.”
“But you aren’t going to Lake Arrowhead, are you? I don’t even know where that is.”
“I am going. Brooke, I believe God spoke to you.”
“Are you serious?” She sounded excited. “Why would He want me to go there with you?”
“I couldn’t say. He must have guided your fingers over the number-pad on your phone. That’s amazing.”
“It is.” Brief silence. “It’s giving me the chills. I was compelled to pick up the phone and dial a number randomly, after daydreaming about going to Arrowhead with you. I’ve never done anything like it. I hope I’m not intruding, but would you mind if I went with you today?”
“To where?”
“Where else? Lake Arrowhead.”
“I would say no under any other circumstance, because I feel that I should go there alone, but in light of this how could I say no? If it is God’s will, of course you can go. Only I’m leaving tomorrow, not today.”
“Tomorrow?” She registered surprised. “But I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to leave today. Like right now. Maybe I’m wrong. I sense it though.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s tomorrow. I saw myself driving up the mountain during a snow storm, and it won’t be snowing there until Monday. Let me check online real quick, just to be sure it didn’t come early.”
A minute later I was staring at the weather forecast with a broken heart. It was snowing today. I’d be breaking my date with Deborah. I sighed into the phone.
“What is it, Aaron?”
“You’re right. I’m supposed to leave today, I guess.”
“We’re supposed to leave today, you guess.”
“Yes, that’s right.” I did some math in my head. “Brooke, how old are you, anyway?”
“Fourteen.”
“That’s too young. I’m sorry. You sound older than that on the phone. I didn’t think about how young you are. Your parents would never allow it.”
“They won’t know about it. As luck would have it, they’re out of town till Friday.”
“Maybe that isn’t luck.”
“Maybe,” she said hopefully.
“Gosh, Tinkerbelle, I can’t believe I’m talking to you after all these years. It doesn’t bother you that I call you Tinkerbelle, does it?”
“No,” she said and giggled. “It’s cute. How old was I when we last met, seven? Eight?”
“Eight.”
“You’ll be in for a surprise when you see me. I was slow to mature, but I really shot up. I’m taller than my mom already. Five-foot-seven. I’m on the varsity basketball team as a freshman. Cool, huh?”
“No kidding, huh? I bet you’re beautiful.” What a dumb thing to say.
The way she breathed into the phone, it made me picture her smiling that charming smile. “Nah, I’m not beautiful. But that’s nice of you to think so.”
“Want to hear something sad?” I asked.
“Not really.”
“I finally got the courage to ask out the woman I’ve been in love with for almost a year, and our first date is supposed to be tonight. Oh well, huh?”
“Aww, that is sad. I’m sorry, Aaron.”
“Eh, it’s okay. She’ll be understanding, I think. We can go out next week or something. Or the week after. I’m unsure how long I’m supposed to be in Lake Arrowhead. I took two weeks off of work without knowing I asked for it. So I’m thinking I’m to be there for two weeks.”
“It can’t be that long. I have to get back before my parents return.”
“Oh that’s right. I suppose we can come back sooner, then. Hopefully God will guide us. Worst case scenario, I’ll drive you home and return down there.”
“That’s a lot of driving.”
“Yep.”
There was a stretch of silence. “I never did tell anyone about what Paul did to me that night,” she said.
“You remember that, huh?”
“How could I forget? I have a permanent scar on my temple. It’s small, but it’s a reminder.”
“I’m just grateful that he only hit you and didn’t”—I cut myself short. What was I thinking? Dumb, Aaron, dumb!
“Didn’t do anything sexual?”
“He didn’t, right?”
“He didn’t.”
“Thank God,” I muttered.
“Yes, thank God. Why do you suppose he did what he did? Any idea?”
“I don’t know, Tinkerbelle. I wish I did. He’s just a bad person.”
“He’s evil.”
“Yes. I guess I better let you go. I have to make a horrible call, to Deborah. Text this phone number your address and I’ll come get you in about an hour. Does that work for you?”
“I’ll be packed and ready
. Good luck with Deborah.”
I broke the bad news to Deborah. She took it in stride, looked forward to our date, whenever it may be. I probably over-did it with the apologies and asserting that I wanted nothing more than to go out with her, that I simply had no choice, that I had to be somewhere. We ended the call on a high note, and I got to packing. I packed lightly, only two pairs of jeans and some shirts, a jacket. And my new tux and shoes. God would provide.
I found a hotel online, Lake Arrowhead Inn, and called to reserve a room for two weeks. I said I might not stay that long, but I wanted to secure it, just in case. They couldn’t promise it would remain available unless I agreed to book it for two weeks and gave a deposit over the phone. I cleared my mind and uttered the first words that popped in my head, issued up like water from a well, and it was “Two weeks will be great.”
It was ten A.M. when I pulled onto the road. I used my phone’s GPS to find Tinkerbelle’s house, which I had been to twice but couldn’t recall how to get there.
I parked in the driveway, texted her that I’m out front. Nervously I awaited her, imagining what she’d look like. I hoped she wouldn’t be so pretty that I’d have a hard time not staring at her. I suspected she’d be just that pretty, or more. When she didn’t respond and didn’t come out, I turned the truck off and went to the front door, rang the bell. Then rang it again. I waited ten minutes, in which time I phoned her a dozen times to no avail.
“So be it,” I said and got in my truck.
I continued phoning her as I drove to the freeway. I gave up. It wasn’t meant to be, I guess. I had a long drive ahead of me, set it off on the right foot with a prayer for guidance and safety, and safety for Tinkerbelle, who I hoped was okay.
I had an audio book of Alexander Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo (the best story ever written) playing on my cassette-player. I was engrossed by the story when my phone rang. It read Tinkerbelle, a name I input into my contacts list this morning with a smile. I answered eagerly.
“Yo, Tinkerbelle, where were you?”
“Oh, man, I’m sorry. I’m so embarrassed. Are you on your way down there now?”
“Yeah, about… seventy miles south of Fresno as we speak. What happened?”
“I was taking a shower and slipped, I guess. I just woke up on the floor of the tub.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. My fingers are all wrinkly, like prunes.”
“I’d guess so. You took a shower for an hour and a half.”
“Well crap,” she said inwardly. “I thought I was supposed to go down with you.”
“So did I. I guess not.”
“Damn,” she said. “Want to hear something interesting? I must have hit my head on the fall, because I’m bleeding.”
“That’s not interesting. That’s alarming. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. What’s interesting is where I’m bleeding. My temple. The scar on my temple.”
“That is something,” I said meditatively. “You weren’t supposed to go. I think that’s pretty evident now.”
She inhaled deeply through her nose. “Well have fun down there. Maybe we can get together sometime. My parents would love to see you again, I bet.”
“Yes, we’ll do that. You were the most precious kid, Brooke. Really you were. Probably still are.”
“You’re sweet to say. I’ll let you go. Be safe.”
“Sure thing. You too.” A thought occurred to me before saying goodbye. “Wait a sec. Since I have you on the phone, may I ask you something?”
“No,” she said gamely.
“Well I’m asking anyway,” I said jocularly. “Maybe you won’t remember, being that you were eight years old, but the last time I saw you we were on your couch. You said something that I spent a lot of time thinking about during the following days. You said Pie told you to tell me not to lose hope in Paul.”
“Pie…” she said dreamily.
“I didn’t mis-hear you then? It was Pie?”
“I didn’t say anything about Pie, did I?”
“Yeah, there on the couch. I don’t mean to be nosy, but you had a friend waiting outside of class? I couldn’t make any sense of it, and that she’d advise you on my relationship with Paul. Vexing, that’s what it was. I regretted not asking you about it in detail. I guess I had other things on my mind, like losing you as a part of my life, and leaving the church permanently.”
“If you had asked for details, I probably wouldn’t have said anything more. I don’t recall mentioning Pie to you.”
“It was a long time ago. I don’t remember much of being eight either.”
“Pie was my biggest secret.”
“Like the movie, The Secret Life of Pi?” I was smiling.
“Actually seeing the commercial for that movie reminded me of Pie. I hadn’t thought of her since… since about that time, when I was eight.”
“Did you tell her about Paul and me? Is that why she said what she did? And why was she in the parking lot that day?”
What Tinkerbelle then said might have surprised me, but it didn’t. Nothing would surprise me much this day. The extraordinary seemed mundane today.
“Pie isn’t real, Aaron.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean she doesn’t exist. Pie was an imaginary friend, my best friend. Or I guess you could say she was my subconscious, though I was too young to figure that out back then.”
“You know our subconscious minds can be the voice of God,” I said. “That doesn’t surprise me that God would tell you to say what you did. Because He was right to advise me to try to reach Paul. I should have tried harder. That’s cute you thought she was an imaginary friend. Pie,” I said and chuckled. “God works in mysterious ways, eh?”
“Yeah…”
I sensed she wasn’t telling me something. “Is everything okay, Brooke?”
“Yeah. I’ll let you go. Drive safe.”
I drove down Interstate 99 for several hours before merging onto Interstate 5. I drove up the gradient known as the grapevine. The sharp incline caused the gasoline to shift back in the tank, triggering the low-fuel light in my gauge-cluster. My truck was working hard breasting this hill, so I hoped it wouldn’t be too far till the next gas station. It was ten miles before there was an exit with refueling stations, a cluster of them. I began merging to the off ramp before suddenly correcting myself back onto the slow lane, without reason or consideration. I swallowed and peered at my gas-gauge: dead on E. A sign read Next Gas 11 miles. I was going to run out of gas.
“Are you kidding me?” I said. “What the heck was that about!”
“Have faith,” I said calmly. I said it, but it didn’t originate from within me. Have faith I did, from that moment on.
The needle of the gas-gauge was resting on the peg a good quarter-inch below the E by the time I exited the freeway in Santa Clarita. I expected to run out of gas, and reproved myself for believing that God wouldn’t provide for me.
There was a Shell station close by, but I drove past it, turned onto the next street, pulled into an Arco. I got out and stretched, bones popping in my weary back. I slid my debit card in the machine and wed the nozzle to my truck. I squeezed the lever, dropped the catch-mechanism over it, and walked directly toward Manzanita Plaza, which neighbored the gas station. I strode directly to The Party Store, which was the nearest store of the lot. I had ceased being dubious or skeptical or even incredulous. I acted purely on impulse now, and accepted that. There was a Carl’s Jr in the center of the plaza, it’s fragrant smoke wafting out of a smoke-stack. I was starving for it. I considered driving through after I was all fueled up.
I milled around aimlessly inside the large store for a few minutes before happening upon a large bin with discounted items inside. Sitting atop the array of party goods was a Halloween costume. It was for kids, a frog costume. I took it, went to the cashier and paid for it. I laughed as I left the store. A kid’s frog costume? I opened it up and tho
ughtlessly threw everything away except the mask.
Maybe this has nothing to do with my purpose, I mused. Maybe this isn’t God’s doing but my overactive imagination, or some bad bacon this morning. What sense could there be in having a Halloween costume mask?
I made it back to my silver road-dust-enshrouded Tacoma, removed the nozzle from my truck and cradled it. I glanced at the meter and saw that only five cents worth of gas had made it to my tank. Faulty catch-mechanism. I sighed and gave it another try, slid my card, pressed regular unleaded, and pumped gas. Only another nickel’s worth of gas made it inside my tank before it clicked off. Broken pump. I got in my truck and started it, hopeful that the ten cents worth of gas would be enough to crank over the engine to move me to the next pump. It fired right up. I pulled forward fifteen feet to the next pump and turned the engine off. As I got out of my truck I glanced at the fuel gauge: full tank. I gawped at it.
“Forgive me, Lord,” I said. “I was wrong to have doubted you.”
As I pulled onto the road, I had forgotten about Carl’s Jr and their delicious burgers. I wasn’t hungry anymore. I was satiated and why should that have surprised me? My stomach was another gas tank filled without sustenance.
Something huge was coming, and not just from the dark clouds blotting out the sky. A storm of another name.