The Shadow Wife

She spotted another wooden arrow affixed to a tree, and turned in the direction it pointed to find herself in what appeared to be a clearing, or at least a parking area. She could make out a green truck and a battered white Volkswagen van. Then she spotted a building, a large cabin, perhaps, to the right of the vehicles. It wasn’t until she’d parked her car next to the van that she saw a woman run down the few steps of the cabin toward her car, and it took her a moment to recognize her. Penny! Her dirty-blond hair was long and straight, parted in the middle, and she was wearing a white halter top with strands of beads dangling from the shoulders. Even in the hazy fog, it was obvious she was wearing no bra. She looked more like twenty than thirty-seven, and only when Carlynn got out of the car to hug her old friend did she see the fine lines on her face.

“You look beautiful!” Carlynn said as she drew away from Penny.

“You, too,” Penny whispered.

Carlynn hugged her again, this time in sympathy at the weak sound of her voice. “Poor Penny. We’ve got to see if we can get you well again. It used to be hard to shut you up.”

“I know,” Penny said. “Everyone back home is teasing me that I must have used up my lifetime allotment of words already. The weird thing is, no one here knew me before, so they all think I’m this quiet little person.”

Carlynn laughed. “I can tell them the truth about you.”

“Let’s take your things to my cabin, and then I’ll give you a tour.” Penny grabbed Carlynn’s hard-sided suitcase and guided her down a trail through the woods.

“Carly,” she said, looping her free hand through Carlynn’s arm. “I just want to make sure you know that I don’t expect a miracle from you. I mean, I know you can’t always make things better. I read that in an article.”

“I’ll do my best,” Carlynn said.

“You are not dressed for a commune,” Penny whispered. “Do you have some other clothes with you?”

“Of course,” Carlynn said. She’d left the center midday, so she still had on her work clothes—navy blue slacks, a white blouse and a white-and-blue checked cardigan. She’d brought jeans, jerseys and a sweatshirt with her, and she couldn’t wait to change into them.

“How’s the medical center you opened?” Penny asked as they walked.

“It’s great,” Carlynn said, missing it a little already. “It’s my dream come true. We’re hoping to prove that many so-called healers can really heal.”

“Well, you’re the one for that job. I’ll never forget how you fixed my leg after I fell from the terrace at your house.”

Carlynn laughed. “I’m not sure I did much,” she said. “I don’t think your leg was really broken.”

“You’re too modest. And speaking of modest, this is my abode.” Penny let go of Carlynn’s arm and stepped onto the porch of a small cabin. “Come on in.”

Carlynn followed Penny into the cabin, noticing the wooden sign that read “Cornflower” hanging above the door.

The cabin was tinier than Carlynn could have imagined. It contained a minuscule living room, with an old sofa and a woodstove taking up much of the space, and an even smaller bedroom. Two twin mattresses, their sheets and blankets in disarray, were pushed together on the floor, leaving mere inches of floor exposed around them.

“Wow,” Carlynn said. “Cozy.”

Penny laughed. “No television,” she whispered. “No radios. Just birdsong and the sound of the ocean on a still night.”

Carlynn noticed the lanterns on the floor and the one tiny dresser. “Is there electricity?” she asked, thinking of her hair dryer. “Plumbing?” She hadn’t noticed a bathroom in the small cabin.

“No and no,” Penny said. “There are a couple of communal latrines.” She must have seen Carlynn’s look of dismay, because she laughed again. “You’ll get used to it after a couple of days,” she whispered, then looked at Carlynn’s navy-blue pumps. “Do you have anything that would be easier to walk in?” she asked.

“Sneakers,” Carlynn said. “I’ll put them on.”

She changed her clothes and her shoes, and they left the cabin and wandered through the woods and open spaces of the commune. Penny obviously knew her way around. She pointed out the different cabins to her, and after a while they reached a clearing, where children swung on rope swings hanging from the branches of mammoth trees and darted in and out of the fog. The latrine was not far from the clearing and it was worse than Carlynn had expected, an open area where everyone was expected to defecate side by side. She now understood why hippies had the reputation of being dirty, as they passed the one shower that served the entire community. The showerhead was rigged up to a tree, and it was connected to a huge barrel of water resting above a fire that someone would have to keep stoked, if anyone was to ever have a hot shower.

“Guess what, though,” Penny said in her anemic voice. “The main cabin—the one near where you parked—is where we cook meals, and it has plumbing, so you don’t have to freak out about germs when you eat.”