#14 Merging

Renee Rocks And So Do I!

As I write I find I am no longer outside of my story. I am Renee and I am having her adventure! If you recall, last time we left her contemplating Monty’s remarks about the nature of time and the Path of Spiritual Adventure:

“Ready?” Monty grinned.

She nodded and climbed aboard. As they zipped into the night she told herself, “This time I will observe more carefully how to get to Serena’s.”

The moon was almost full, but shadows darkened the streets. There were so many turns and curves that Renee soon gave up trying to remember them all. When they finally pulled onto the Vine Street alley, however, she immediately recognized where they were. The backs of the restaurants were quiet, and the silver covers on the garbage pails shimmered in the moonlight. A small lamp lit up the little green door.

“Will Serena be here?” Renee asked as she followed Monty to the door.

“She left the country last night. Some kind of psychospiritual conference in Zurich, I believe, but she doesn’t usually attend these events anyway. I don’t either, except when there’s someone to introduce. Membership is presently limited to twelve—six women and six men, but at this point in our development it is important to include spiritual adventurers as guests.”

Renee was about to ask, “Membership in what?” but Monty had opened the little green door, and she saw that there were stairs going down as well as the ones that went up to Serena’s apartment. How could she have possibly missed them before? Monty led the way as they descended. At the bottom of the staircase loomed a heavy, carved wooden door. He pushed down on the latch and slowly it creaked open. The room was huge. Lit only by candles, it was something you might see in King Henry VIII’s castle, or maybe the banquet room in Beowulf: dark wood, heavy tapestries, a long wooden table set with large ceramic mugs and pewter dinnerware, king-sized chairs.

People were milling about. Monty grabbed Renee’s arm and propelled her into a small group. She was still holding tightly to her salad, but soon a stolid, middle-aged woman ambled up, took it from her and then waited to be introduced. Dressed in a simple linen-looking ivory top and long skirt—made from hemp, Renee learned later—her outfit was appropriately finished off with a pair of sensible Berkinstocks.

“Ada Greenway, Renee C. Wright.” Monty obliged.

“Our guest of honor! Welcome.” She pumped Renee’s hand with a strong one of her own and then scurried away to put the salad….somewhere.

Renee glanced quickly around the small circle and with a start recognized the scarecrow man from Serena’s crystal ball. His eyes met hers. Slowly he stretched his skinny fingers in her direction. “Joe Kerr.”

“Renee,” she replied. His hand was cool.

Monty added, “Joe is our leader. We are fortunate to have him in town as he is usually on the road.”

“Do you travel for work?” Renee asked in her best cocktail party manner, though she was feeling more like she had just popped in on an underground Mad Hatter’s tea party. Joe was wearing the same clothes he wore when she first saw him in the ball: patched waistcoat that looked like it came from another era, striped blue and white pantaloons and high-top orange Keds with floppy tongues and no laces.

“No, my dear lady. I am a wanderer.” His voice had a wispy texture as if it were being stretched from another time and place into this one.

“I’m sorry. I’m afraid I don’t know what a wanderer is.” she murmured apologetically.

He studied her as if she were completely daft. “Someone who wanders, of course.” His voice was stronger now.


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