Two hours later the grounds around the two story Spanish-style stucco home on the hillside in Montecito were thronged with the people--conferencees, friends of Zak, people from the entertainment and publishing worlds. The cocktail party atmosphere was animated. One of the guests was seated at the piano in the living room playing piano bar music. The open sliding glass door spilled music into the yard.
I had never liked that kind of music. It was dissonant and devoid of hope.
"You can leave your car here," Zak said. He sipped his drink and assessed the crowd.
Eucalyptus leaves wavered in a slow wind. Afternoon sun had dissolved the remaining fog.
"I really do need to go home," I said, not wanting to defend my decisions, wondering why I had allowed myself to be talked into attending the gathering. "I have a commission. I want to sleep in my own bed. I want to hug my cat. I absolutely don't want to traipse off to some God-forsaken section of the desert."
"You used to like it."
"When was that? It's so dry and hot. It makes me feel gritty, uncomfortable and a uneasy for some reason."
"So, you're still avoiding the truth."
"What is truth, Zak? And how do you know when you hear it? How can we ever be sure of anything? Even things that scientists prove, a hundred years later are disproven when they prove yet other truths."
"So you're saying there is no truth?"
"I'm saying there's no way to know for sure."
Gently, he steered me away from the others to the edge of the swimming pool. We gazed out over the bay.
"This has been a long time coming," he said. "I loved you then. I love you now. Raven, we need you for this. You've got to come with us, please."
"For what?"
"It's time for you to reveal it. You vowed to do so a long time ago."
"Oh really, and what's that?" My frustration escalated.
"I don't blame you for being skeptical. I didn't believe it at first, either. After that, I had to convince my son. Boy, was he stubborn." Zak looked very round in his Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts, though he had muscular legs.
"I didn't know you had kids." So many contradictions came to mind. They baffled me.
"You were the one who helped him, of course. You supported him in everything he did, until the end. You were convinced it would not be for nothing. It's time for you to tell the world."
"Tell them what? Who was your son?"
A friendly man appeared with drinks. I recognized my favorite. Anything that tasted like peaches couldn't be all bad.
"It's all there--The Circle of the White Rose, the Ordination, your relationship with Jessie, the final days, everything, including what happened to her."
"Her?"
"The one he loved so, the one everyone demeans and denies. I do wish she'd chosen to come back with us. Still, the agreement was between you, Jessie and my son."
"Who was your son?" I wished he'd stop ignoring my questions.
"Thankfully, we were able to smuggle it all out. It took some finagling. It's locked up in a place no one would suspect. You must not say anything to anyone until we're ready for the press conference."
"How can I say anything, when I don't know what you're talking about?"
"Promise me. Do you promise you won't say anything until it's time?"
"Yes, of course. Can you please tell me what you're talking about? What's so all-fired important?"
"Yes, when we are in a place with no ears. I know you have the need to get things out, to show people how it is," he said, speaking with the elegance of a slow southern drawl. "But sometimes they don't need the burden of knowing."
"Now you sound like you work for the government, and people are too stupid to understand," Raven said.
"That's not what I mean. I've never seen such a bunch of scalawags, fooling people with their self-righteous bullshit. Of course, there are always those kinds of people in every lifetime, during every period of history, including back then." A scowl touched his face. "There are people who have a lot to lose when this comes out. That's why we have to be so careful, initially. No one likes their power base eroded, especially when it's built on lies."
"What do I have to do with it?"
"You are the Voice to the World."
"Me?" I said, chilling for some inexplicable reason.
"Yes. You were the family historian. You had fire in your soul like your mother did. You loved him just as much, too. I do wish Simon Peter could be here. A skiing accident took him, they tell me. I happened to catch a picture of him on the Internet. It was a horrible thing, displaying him like that, hanging upside down from a frozen tree. It was cold of them. I'm sorry you had to lose him that way, honey. I meant to contact you, but I got so tied up in one of my business messes, it distracted me. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."
Hit by a wave of sadness, I said, "That's right, you did know Tad."
"He didn't believe it until the end, they tell me."
Shuddering, I said, "Who told you that?"
"We make choices. We usually go with what seems easiest and rationalize our excuses. But you, you've chosen the difficult path--to reveal your pain from this lifetime. It's time to expose the other one, too. Soon, there will be no more denying it."
~~~***~~~