The Dandelion Six

                                               The Dandelion Six

                                                     Chapter 1

The smile slid from Phillip DeMaster’s face as he stopped dead in his tracks in front of his wife’s coffee shop.  He stood in silent horror staring down at the sidewalk before him.  Growing out through the space between the concrete squares a perky little dandelion had opened its leaves on the cement to bask in the inviting late spring sun.  Trying not to make a scene, he shiftily looked around to see if anyone was watching.  Once secure no eyes were on him, he quickly reached down and tugged at the small plant, leaving a tiny green stump just able to reveal itself in the crack. 
         Concealing the little weed in his palm he opened the door.  In the coffee shop Phillip made his way to the counter, forcing a smile and greeting the few patrons there.  “Marcus,” Phillip inquired of the young man behind the counter.  “Where is Mrs. DeMaster?” 
         The long haired, anorexic and anemic looking young man turned to Phillip and adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses as he moved to the opposite side of the counter.  “Hi Mr. DeMaster.  Can I get you something?” 
         “Yes,” Phillip whispered while angrily gritting his teeth, “the answer to my question.  Where is Mrs. DeMaster?”
         “Oh, she went to run a couple of errands.  She said she’d be back in ‘bout an hour.”
         Phillip sighed in frustration.  He glanced about the room to make certain his actions had not caught anyone’s attention.  “Marcus, may I speak with you in back?”  Phillip motioned in the direction of the office.
         “Well, okay,” the boy answered slowly, not at all knowing why the town’s mayor would request chambers with him.  But, Marcus followed Phillip to Mrs. DeMaster’s office shutting the door behind him.
         “Marcus,” Phillip said exposing the tiny dying dandelion in his palm.  “Look what I found growing in the sidewalk in front of the store.”
         Marcus was not certain what to think as he looked at the dying weed and then at Phillip who cocked his head toward the young man. 
“Yeah, so it’s just a dandelion,” Marcus uttered uncertainly.
         “Oh my….”  Phillip sighed trying to reign in his anger.  “It is more than ‘just a dandelion.’  It is a scourge that must be wiped clean from our town!”
         The young man slowly took a step back, crossing his arms before his chest.
         “Look, Marcus,” Phillip continued, “we are entering into the beginning of the tourist season.  Together we all must make certain the town looks its best.  That is why I initiated the ordinance to levy fines against land owners and business owners of the village who do not maintain standards of weed control.  And how would it look if I were put in the position of fining my own wife?”
         The young man looked bewildered.  “But it is just a dandelion.”
         “It is more than ‘just a dandelion!’”  Phillip reiterated.  He took a breath to collect himself, and then continued.  “Marcus, this village depends on tourists for its survival.  If we want people to come here we must make certain that the environment is comfortable for them.  People do not like to be out of their own element.  They want to be at home without being at home.  This is how they vacation.  If we want suburbanites from Milwaukee and Chicago and other places to come here and spend their dollars, we must duplicate their ideals of suburbia as best we can.  Lawn and landscapes must be immaculately groomed, and that requires weed control, especially dandelions.  If we do not keep dandelions clear, they could overtake the village, and if we were to allow that, then what next?  Allow clover and creeping Charlie to grow everywhere too?  No one would come to a weed infested eyesore of a town!”  Phillip spat bitterly and took another deep breath.  The young man stared back at Phillip, uncertain as to what to make of his outburst.  “Have I made myself clear Marcus?” 
         “Um…yeah,” Marcus replied unconvincingly.
         “Very well then,” Phillip said as he stepped past Marcus and dropped the dandelion in a waste can, then opened the door.  “Before you leave today I will need you to spray between the concrete slabs out front.  If we do not kill all of their roots, we will not kill them.”
         “Okay, I’ll spray before I leave,” Marcus relented.
         Waiting at the counter stood a tall lanky man wearing jeans and a t-shirt.  He was a bit unkempt with a couple days of facial growth lightly shadowing his face.  His long, blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail.  The early summer sun had shaded his pale skin pink.  His blue eyes smiled from behind his horn-rimmed glasses.  To his side stood a petite brown skinned woman wearing a short skirted yellow summer dress and sandals.  Her long silky black hair hung down framing her face as her earthy brown eyes seemed to drink in everything around her.  In contrast to her companion she appeared very neat and clean.  Phillip walked past the two and greeted them with a smile on his way out.  As he passed by he caught a faint whiff of ass, weed, and patchouli.
         “That’s the guy I was telling you about,” the tall man whispered to the woman.
         “Sonny, why does he want you to leave?” she asked in a thick Spanish accent.  “I do not think I understand.”
         “Well, Maria, he is the mayor of the town,” the man whispered again, “and he has this thing about dandelions.  He thinks the dandelions are going to ruin the town’s economy.  That’s why he keeps sending me letters stating the town law requires me to spray poison on them.  But he can’t make me.  We live just outside the town line.  He can’t make us do anything.”
         “Why does he hate the dandelions so much?  They’re beautiful.”
         “Ah, who knows, the guy is nuts.”
         Marcus stepped up to the counter opposite from them.  Sonny and Maria ordered a couple dozen bagels and a couple pounds of coffee.  Having completed their business, they stepped outside to where they had left the station wagon parked on the street.  As they drove north on Main Street on their way out of town Maria noted, “Look at the way the yards are groomed.  Very neat, very clean.  They look like a cubist’s work.  The clean lines are interesting, but very rigid.” 
“Everything here has been assimilated to conform to his ideas,” Sonny added with contempt lingering in his voice.




                                                           
     




























Chapter 2

         Before long they crossed the bridge, and turned down the road leading to the train depot.  On this side of the bridge wild flowers grew along the roadside.  A brilliant smattering of color against the dark green north woods in the background.  Sonny and Maria drove a short distance before turning into the drive.  The front yard was overgrown and unkempt.  Five large metal sculptures were placed seemingly randomly.  Yellow headed dandelions and red clover dotted the landscape.  The compound of the old train station was clustered together at the center of ten acres.  There was the depot, which had been converted into a six bedroom house.  There were also four large outbuildings which once warehoused materials from the train or ships.  Sonny remodeled two of the outbuildings so each contains three studios.  The third is the garage.  And the last, Sonny planned to turn into a gallery.
         It was here, on the eastern aspect of the slim thumb of Wisconsin that is Door County, nestled at the meeting place of the Yahanee River and the great expanse of Lake Michigan, just outside the village known as Liberty, where Maria Sanchez agreed to spend her summer.  According to Sonny, her summer home was once the center of Liberty when it was a busy port town.  The deep waters near the shores of the village made it an ideal place for ships to stop and load or unload their burdens carried throughout the great lakes.  A railroad track was placed following the shore running through Liberty and on up to Newport.  Trains would stop more than daily delivering goods, particularly from the logging industries of northern Wisconsin.  This village thrived for many years.  However, some time after the Civil War ended, for reasons no one remembers, the ships and trains ceased to visit Liberty.  So, what once was a thriving town where the trading of goods took place was abandoned by many of those who came there for work.  A handful of people stayed, however.  They were able to maintain the village.  They eked out livings as they could, and the village continued on in the long shadow of its hay day.
Sonny acquired the old rail depot five years ago.  It was chance that led him to Liberty.  He and some of college friends were out on a roadie and had stopped in the village for fuel and beer.  At first, Sonny had a subtle unease of the town, something he could not place.  He sensed something false about the perfectly groomed town.  However, as they continued their way north, just over the bridge outside of the village, he saw the ‘for sale’ sign.  From the road he could see the depot and outbuildings atop a short hill.  Sonny had his companions detour down the access road running along side the river.  They turned into the drive and crested the small hill to the depot.  Sonny knew the moment he got out of the car he was home. 
He saw the large outbuilding across the abandoned, rusted railroad track opposite the depot.  He walked over to further inspect it.  As he moved past the depot two more outbuildings along side the first came into view.  And, of course, there was another next to the depot.  Beyond the buildings a mix of hardwoods and softwoods sloped gently to the foot of Lake Michigan.  What’s more, he knew if he could acquire this property he could have a near perfect place for his work as a sculptor and metalsmith.
After graduation Sonny had difficulty finding work where he could use his art
degree, so he labored for six months as a waiter.  Unfortunately, it was only for six
                                                 
months.  Sonny’s father died unexpectedly.  Sonny was very close to his father and his loss was difficult.  However, even though he was no longer there to look after his son, he made certain Sonny was well provided for.  And according to his last will and testament he left Sonny a large sum of money, including an unspent inheritance Sonny’s father was left by his mother, Sonny’s grandmother, when she died.
A few months later, Sonny returned to the property outside Liberty to learn there had been no buyer as the sale sign still stood in the corner of the yard.  He contacted the listing agent and, weeks later, was able to move in.
What Sonny did not know about the property was that Mayor DeMaster wanted it for himself because he found the place an eyesore.  It had been neglected for years and was so unkempt.  Mr. DeMaster believed that because the property and building could be seen from the road, the same road tourists take in and out of the village; people would sour on the town and drive through instead of stopping to shop or dine.  “It is all about first impressions,” he would say.  “Those who drive in from the north see it first, right before they enter Liberty.  And what kind of impression does that make?  They will be inclined to think the people of this town are a dirty, careless, lazy sort and will drive on to the next town.  Those who come from the south see it last as they leave town.  But it can leave a bitter impression on them, having them wish to never return to Liberty.”  He believed the buildings should be raised and condos, or rental units be put up.  Though he had assets himself, purchase of the property would stretch him too thin, so he could not comfortably afford it.  This, however, did not keep him from giving up.  Mayor DeMaster was determined to clean this lot, and began proceedings to annex the land.  But, for political reasons, he was never able to get the votes for needed for annexation.
                                                 






                                                 












                                                  


      Chapter 3

Sonny drove slowly along the dirt drive around the depot to the garage.  Once parked, Maria got out with the bagels and coffee.  Sonny opened the back of the station wagon and pulled out three overstuffed duffle bags.  Maria followed him to the house.  Soft clouds of dust squeezed from the sides of Sonny’s shoes with every step he took along the dirt drive.  Maria walked slowly, admiring the colors of the yard.  Then she looked at the weathered walls of the depot.  It was a long, narrow single story.  She was not certain how Sonny was able to house six people in the structure.  Apprehension began to build in her.  What if she did not have enough space?  What if she misunderstood what Sonny had told her and had to share a room?  Maria was beginning to question her judgment in regard to her move.  Sonny set two bags on the porch and propped open the screen door with the third.  He picked up the two bags up and led Maria into the depot.
“Well, this is it,” Sonny announced as he stopped a few feet inside.
Maria moved about the room slowly, looking at everything.  It was large and open, an old post and beam structure with wood floors.  There were two couches a couple of coffee tables and two chairs placed about the room.  Along the front wall stood a large wood stove.  There was an L-shaped island separating the kitchen from the great room.  Maria set the bagels and coffee on the counter and inspected the two refrigerators as well as the oven and range.
“What do you think?”  Sonny asked.
Maria felt her apprehension begin to melt away.  “I like it,” she nodded.
“Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”  Sonny led Maria down a long dark hall.  An occasional floor plank squeaked under the clap of their heels.  There were three doors on either side and a door at the end of the hall.  Most of the doors were open, allowing Maria to peek in as she passed by.  Sonny led Maria to the third door on the right.  He stood by, allowing Maria to enter the room first.
The room was well sized and painted white.  There was an open window opposite the door which looked out over the railroad tracks to one of the outbuildings.  A gentle
breeze danced along the edges of the sheer white curtains that hung to the sides.  To the side of the window was a full-sized bed already made up.  There was also a small dresser with a mirror along the wall by the door.  Maria stood in the center of the room slowly turning.  Sonny set the duffel bags by the dresser.  Maria stopped, facing him with a wide tooth filled smile. 
“I’m sorry there is no closet, but we just couldn’t make the space for them,” Sonny apologized.
“Oh, that’s fine, Sonny.  That’s fine,” Maria gushed.
“Okay, I’ll get your other bag.  I’ll be right back.” 
Sonny left the room.  Maria could hear the clap-squeak of heel-to-board fade down the hall.  She moved over to the bed placing a palm on it.  She pressed twice before sitting.
Any apprehension Maria had now vanished.  She could not believe she finally had her own room.  All of her life she had to share her bedroom.  When she was growing up in Lima she had to share a room with her sister.  It was not unbearable, she loved her
sister, but Maria always wanted her own space.  She believed it was important for one to have one’s own space.  The sharing of a room became more difficult as Maria entered college.  Her sister was still in high school at the time.  Maria’s school and work schedule did not allow her much time at home.  When she was home, her sister seemingly was always there too.  Maria tried to find an apartment of her own, but could not find one she could afford.  This, in fact, turned out to be a silver lined cloud.  Though she was unable to have a room of her own, she was able to find solitude in a corner of the English lab at the university. 
Maria had been studying English since before she entered high school.  She also studied Italian and dabbled in Russian.  Her fascination with the different sounds of the spoken word, different alphabets, characters and structures of languages made it easy for her study.  When she entered the university she entered the College of Linguistics, continuing her education in English.  For whatever reason, that corner of the English lab was always empty when she arrived.  Often times she would sit quietly, reading magazines or whatnot.  She just enjoyed having some space to herself.
Maria reflected upon the day she first considered coming to the United States.  She was on her way to meet with one of her English Professors.  While waiting in the hall outside his office she saw a small notice for opportunities to study abroad.  Maria had never before considered the possibility of studying in another country.  However, the thought intrigued her.  She romanticized traveling to another country as she waited for the professor.  When his door opened and the student came out, Maria rushed in to see him.  She had forgotten what she originally came to see him for.  Instead Maria inquired of the exchange program to study elsewhere.  It was late in the term and she learned only three opportunities remained for application:  the St. Cloud State College in Minnesota, Loras University in Iowa, and the University of Wisconsin at Green Bay.  Professor Tomms, who was from London, gave her a few brochures to look at.  Maria sat in his office for quite a while, slowly, carefully reading each brochure.  She realized she kept returning to an autumn scene in the University of Wisconsin – Green Bay brochure.  She had never seen leaves with those colors, the hot reds, yellows and oranges.  She understood she had to go there, if for nothing else, to see the trees in autumn. 
Maria began the application process.  She was concerned her parents would react negatively to her new found desire.  But, when she informed her family of her plan, she found her parents were supportive of her traveling abroad to study, even though her announcement came as a surprise.  Her parents believed studying abroad not only allowed Maria to learn books, but also a different culture, a different way of life.  They believed understanding your neighbors in the international community of our world was imperative if we as a human race were to survive. 
Maria’s application was a bit late, so when she registered for classes most of the courses she was hoping to take were full.  So, to fulfill the minimum amount of credits needed for full time status, she selected art classes as filler.  She had never taken an art class before.    Maria had always been curious about studying the arts.  She even felt a bit guilty that she belayed any ambition for practicing art to maintain her more practical study of language.  Now the opportunity had seized her. 
Maria often spent her time in her dorm room painting.  For Maria painting was purely emotional regurgitation and spiritual cleansing.  Her roommate, Lisa, who was from the small town of Luxemburg, was nice and a good roommate.  She showed Maria around and helped her when Maria needed, but for the most part Lisa spent most of her time with her boyfriend.  Maria was fine with that.  It allowed her complete privacy in the dorm room. 
Over the course of the semester, Maria learned she not only liked painting, but she had an uncanny talent for it.  The professors in the Art Department could not believe she had no previous training.  They were convinced Maria could be the best artist to have ever attended the University.  Maria did not pay much attention to the accolades as she did not consider herself to be a serious artist.  However, as her work gained notoriety she began meeting more and more people and studios began offering to display and sell her work.  It was at a showing in the East Side Gallery where she first met Sonny.  Maria had seen him around the art department on occasion.  She heard something of his sculpture, but had never met him before.  She remembered the intensity, the brilliant energy flowing through his blue eyes when he asked “What inspires you?”  He asked her this before even introducing himself.
The question caught Maria off guard.  She shifted her feet while crossing her arms.  “What do you mean?” she replied to buy time while collecting her thoughts.  She had never before considered what driving force was behind her painting.  Maria painted all things, all scenes.  It made no difference to her.  For her it was a simple recording of moments in life around her.
“It’s okay,” Sonny said.  “If you don’t know what drives your painting I think you shouldn’t try to figure it out.  Some things are better left unknown.  Right now your work is brilliant,” he encouraged with a smile.
Maria never understood why, but when Sonny told her that, it gave her all the confidence she needed to consider herself a serious artist.  As she continued to practice she realized she had fallen in love with the process of painting.  Eventually she had gave up on linguistics and chose to pursue a career in art.  Her parents were quite distraught when she told them and they chided her well.  Maria understood they did not understand and she realized they would not help her pursue such an impractical endeavor.  However, with the help of professors, advisors and friends, like Sonny, Maria managed to obtain grants and scholarships to continue her education.  Every year she returned south of the equator over Christmas break and for a couple of months over the summer.  This year, however, was the first time in three years she would not return home over summer.  Difficult as it was, Maria learned to be okay with missing her family, her country and her culture.  She promised herself she would return home for good after she graduated next year. 
                                                 






                                                 




      Chapter 4

The squeaking boards under Sonny’s clapping heels brought Maria to the present.  Sonny entered the room placing the duffle bag with the others.  “If you’re ready,” Sonny began, “I’ll show you around.”
“Okay.”  Maria smiled.  She bounced off the bed, and followed Sonny.
“Out in the garage,” Sonny spoke as they walked, “if you go upstairs to the loft area, you’ll find lamps, furniture, electric heaters, fans, dressers, those kinds of things.  Help yourself to whatever you want.”
They entered the kitchen to find a short thin Asian woman holding a half eaten pumpernickel bagel in one hand and drinking a glass of water with the other.  Her long hair was pulled back by a bandana.  Her t-shirt, arms and face were speckled with brownish gray splashes of clay.  Along side her, filling a glass from the tap, was a tall thin black man with a three inch afro, mutton chop sideburns and a soul patch under his bottom lip.  Maria squealed excitedly recognizing Heather and Martin, and rushed to give each a hug and a kiss.  She had not seen Heather for a year.  Maria last heard Heather was in New Mexico learning different throwing and altering techniques.  Martin had returned to Chicago after graduating last year and had been playing in a jazz quintet.  Maria and Sonny went to Chicago six months earlier to see Martin play a New Year concert.  Maria always found him a strangely quiescent fellow, very shy also.  However, Martin had the uncanny ability to draw notes from any musical instrument which struck emotional chords within listeners.  He was an imposing physical specimen.  Maria was not intimidated by him, but she could feel how slight her physical stature was in comparison. 
“Have you seen the studios yet?”  Martin asked.
“No, I haven’t.”
“We’re on our way out there,” Sonny added.
Martin’s mouth stretched wide across his face, revealing teeth.  “You’re gonna love it,” he said as he brought the glass to his lips.
Sonny led Maria through the kitchen door which emptied out on to a circular red paver patio.  There were arches also made of pavers forming a half circle outlining the patio.  At the center of the patio was a fire pit surrounded by six chairs.  There were flowers and herbs planted in large terra cotta pots placed under the archways and along the depot.  They walked under the center arch and crossed a short field of unmowed grass and dandelions.  They crossed the railroad tracks to a dirt path which ran before the long outbuildings.
“Martin, Heather and I have studios in here.”  Sonny motioned toward the building as they passed by.  Then he pointed to next building.  “You, Dipak and Melissa have studios in there.” 
Sonny opened the door on the south side of the building and led Maria in.  They continued through a long, wide hallway with unfinished walls.  Windows were spaced evenly allowing a good amount of natural light to enter.  They passed a door. 
“Melissa is in this studio,” Sonny informed her.  She weaves baskets and makes sweaters, things like that.  Dipak is down at the end.  He’s our poet.  Your studio is here.” 
They stopped before a closed door. 
Maria could see decades, possibly centuries, of wear behind its peeling white paint skin.  Eyes closed, her fingers slowly trickled down the face of the door, gently palpating its history until they finally grasped the brass knob.
She entered a large square room.  The morning sunlight beamed through the two large windows opposite her.  A workbench with storage below occupied half the length of the north wall.  A small wood stove sat atop a stone diaz on the wood floor.  She walked slowly over to the workbench.  A large roll of canvas lay on top.  To the side, in a large metal barrel, wood slats for making stretchers leaned against the wall.  She opened one of the doors beneath the top of the workbench, revealing a large deep space holding a couple of well used small hammers, a miter box and saw, glue, pin nails and a staple gun.  Gently pushing the door shut, Maria stood looking up at the high ceiling.  Three meters she estimated.  Maria could sense the quiet energy of the room, a good energy growing impatient with being static.  She smiled to herself knowing now that there was work to be done.
“Hey, Sonny,” a woman’s voice echoed through the room giving Maria a start.  She turned to see a blond haired young woman standing barefoot in the doorway.  She wore a light blue bikini top and gray shorts.  “Have you seen Dipak?” she asked Sonny.
“No I haven’t.”                              
“Shit.  He was supposed to help me move some stuff.”
“He’s probably in the woods walking the path less traveled,” Sonny joked. 
Melissa closed her round blue eyes and shook her head lightly. 
“We can give you a hand,” Sonny volunteered. 
Maria took exception to Sonny offering her services to help someone she did not know, but quickly reminded herself of where she was, and relaxed about the incident before she ever said anything. 
“Melissa, I’d like you to meet Maria,” Sonny motioned toward Maria.  After the two exchanged greetings an awkward silence closed in around them.  Quickly, Sonny’s discomfort level reached its threshold, forcing him to speak.  “Well, why don’t we get that stuff moved.”
In Melissa’s studio Maria saw grass woven baskets scattered about.  They varied in size and ornateness.  On a table along a wall, hand knit wool sweaters and afghans were neatly folded and piled.  There were bundles of wool piled along a wall.  Spools of freshly dyed wool were heaped next to an old wooden spinning wheel.  Maria inspected some of the baskets while Sonny assisted Melissa in moving a large loom.  Maria picked up a small square basket.  It fit on her palm.  Tall as it was wide, it weighed almost nothing.  An ornate brown inking wrapped around its mouth.  It was both delicate and sturdy.
“You can have that if you want,” Melissa offered. 
“Really?” Maria asked a bit surprised.          
“Yeah, take it.  I’ve got tons of them.”
“Thank you,” Maria smiled.  She returned to examining the tiny basket.  “It’s beautiful.”
Melissa climbed into a blue canvas chair with exposed aluminum frame.  She sat side-saddle, curling her petite pale legs under her, and lit a cigarette.
“So, Sonny, when are we gonna open the gallery?”  Melissa asked.
Sonny walked over to her and took a cigarette from the pack by the ashtray.  “I’ve got a little more drywalling to do.  The counters and cabinets are finished; they just have to be installed.  With painting and the floor, it should be done next month.”
Melissa blew smoke through her nose.  “When are we planning to open?” 
Sonny thought for a moment.  “I’ve been thinking Labor Day weekend would be good.  It will give us time to make sure we have everything done right and give us a month to advertise.”
Melissa shook her head and sighed.  “I’m gonna look into local farmer’s markets.  I’ve got to unload some of this stuff.  I’m out of room and out of funds.”  She thought for a moment.  “Or maybe I’ll call Steve in Milwaukee.  He has always been able to sell some of my stuff.”
Sonny’s arms crossed his chest.  “Look, I’m doing what I can as fast as I can.  If you want things done faster you need to come help more.”
A sharp rise in tension caught Maria’s attention.  She looked over at Melissa.  Their eyes locked for a second.  Melissa looked back at Sonny.  “I do my fair share around here,” a suggestion of anger was stuck in her voice. 
“Look Melissa,” Sonny’s voice grasped for a tone of reason.  “Like everyone else around here I do what I can when I can.”
“Oh, right.  I bet you could get more done if you gave up your private little war.”
“Don’t start in on that.  I’m right on that one.  And I will not give that up.”  Sonny’s words oozed with anger and bitterness. 
Recognizing the direction the argument was now heading, Melissa stamped out her cigarette in the ashtray and got up,  “I’m not gonna listen to this crap again.  I’m outta here,” she said impatiently and stormed out the door.
Confused and surprised by the display, Maria asked, “What’s going on, Sonny?”
“Nothing,” he muttered and put out his cigarette. 
Maria stood silently watching him. 
“Well, I suppose I should get to work.”  Sonny said as he turned to her.  “Make yourself at home.  Holler if you need anything.”
“Okay,” Maria replied softly.  Then with the tiny basket in hand she followed Sonny out. 
                             

                                                 
                                       








                                                 


    Chapter 5

Maria returned to her room, excited to see it again.  She set the tiny basket on top of the dresser.  It made her smile.  Then she placed her duffle bags on the bed and began unpacking.  Once her clothes were arranged in the dresser and half a dozen shoes were on the floor by its side, she changed into shorts and a t-shirt.  When ready, Maria heaved the strap of the third duffle bag over her shoulder, and hauled it to the studio where she spent the rest of the afternoon setting up.  Maria went about this task deliberately.  Everything had its place, the places just needed to be found.
It was warm in the studio.  A light coat of perspiration covered her face and arms.  Maria opened the window letting a gentle breeze whisper through.
She was just about finished getting her new studio in order when she heard the door squeaking open with a gentle rap. 
“Am I interrupting?”  Melissa asked.
“No.” Maria replied.  “Please come in.”
Melissa almost crept in, her bare feet carrying her silently as she panned the room.  “I’m sorry about earlier,” Melissa said as she took a seat on the stool by the workbench.  “I hope I didn’t seem like too much of a bitch.”  She looked at Maria with a short smile.
Maria smiled back.  “It’s okay.  I understand.  These kinds of things happen.  The important thing is to not stay angry.”
“You’re right,” Melissa agreed with a sigh.  She tilted her head a bit with her eyes squinting.  “He really pisses me off sometimes though.  He can be so hypocritical.”
“What do you mean?”  Maria asked as she moved next to Melissa and placed some brushes in a jar of thinner. 
“Well, we could be opening in a couple of weeks.  We could have the place done and have the grand opening on the Fourth of July if Sonny didn’t spend so much time fighting with that asshole mayor in town.”
This surprised Maria.  Sonny told her about the mayor trying to fine him, but nothing more.  Why, Maria wondered silently, would he try to deceive her?  “What do you mean their fighting?”
“You know about the dandelion law in town, right?”
Maria nodded, wide-eyed.
“Well, every time the mayor tries to fine us or make us cut the dandelions or whatever, Sonny always retaliates.  Like one time Sonny and Martin drove through town throwing dandelion seeds out the car window.  They had a garbage bag full of seeds.  It looked like it was snowing.”
“Martin helped him with this?”  Maria asked in disbelief.  She did not think Martin would be one to get involved in a struggle of this sort.  She always pictured him as a passive resistance type.
“Yeah, they’re quite the pair when they get going,” Melissa informed her.  “The rest of us try to stay out of it, especially me.  I want nothing to do with it.  I mean, I don’t think the mayor should be telling Sonny what to do with his land, but there is no reason for Sonny to antagonize him either.”
Maria thought for a moment.  Sonny and the mayor showed no anger toward one
another when she and Sonny were getting coffee and bagels in the morning.  “If they are so angry with each other, why did they smile and nod at each other in the cafe?”
Melissa laughed robustly at the bitter sweet irony.  “They are such hypocrites,” she said in a jovial voice.  “Did you know the mayor owns that coffee shop?”
Maria’s eyes widened.
“Yeah,” Melissa continued, “Sonny still goes there even thought he’s ‘at war’ with the mayor.  He still gets bagels and a couple of pounds of coffee every week.  And the mayor lets him shop there.  It is the only place in town with good coffee and bagels, but convenience is no excuse to me.  I mean, if I were pissed at someone I’d boycott their store and make the trip to another town.  This is hardly a fight on principles.”
“Interesting,” Maria said.  She knew not what to think of that. 
The two nubile shared one another’s company in silence for a moment before Melissa spoke again.
“So, Sonny tells me you’re from Peru….”

                             
                                                 




























                                                 


                                             Chapter 6

“I really appreciate you giving me a ride to Milwaukee on such short notice,” Melissa said as Sonny drove down the long driveway.  The back of the wagon was packed full of Melissa’s hand-made goods.
“Its no problem,” Sonny said softly.  “I really feel like I kind of owe you one.  I know I shouldn’t get so distracted with other things.  I should be putting more effort into having the gallery ready to open.  You’re right about that.”
Melissa rolled down the window letting the warm air whip strands of her hair across her face.  The humid air carried a deep, rich aroma marking the onset of summer.  A subtle sense of achievement and anticipation settled in her chest.  She delicately tucked her hair behind her ear and lit a cigarette.
“I just need a couple of days to unload some product,” Melissa exhaled a cloud of smoke.  “Then I’ll be able to re-stock for the opening.”
“I know,” Sonny replied.  “We’ll be ready for Labor Day weekend.  I promise.”
Melissa blew smoke through her nose and remained silent as they entered the north end of Liberty.  Shops were open along Main Street.  A few people occupied chairs around small tables outside one of the local cafes.
Mayor DeMaster, on his way to his office, stopped and stared at Sonny and Melissa as they cruised by in the station wagon.  When the wagon reached the south end of the village, the mayor shook his head and continued on his way.
Phillip was trying to devise a way to increase the tourism to Liberty.  So far, this summer had been slower than usual, and he recognized no indicators for this.  As he passed people eating breakfast outdoors at the café, Phillip overheard a couple of ladies discussing the dandelions and clover which occupied the field of the house before town.  Phillip did not eavesdrop further.  He felt no need to as he realized exactly why the town was failing.  Obviously the grotesque field, laden with dandelions and clover, was having a far greater negative impact than he had anticipated.  Ears and cheeks flushed red with anger, Phillip quickened his pace to his office. 
Moving with great urgency Phillip entered the lobby of the town hall.
“Mrs. Knudson?” he yelled.  There was no response.  “Mrs. Knudson?”  Again no one answered.  “Clerks,” Phillip muttered angrily.  “They’re just like police, never around when you need them.”
DeMaster belched out a sigh of frustration and stormed into his office.  Turning on the computer as he plopped into his chair, he tapped his fingers impatiently on the mahogany desk top while he waited for the machine to warm up.
Once the computer was finally ready, Phillip struck quickly and angrily at the keyboard.  His fingers composed a demand that Sonny completely comply with village ordinances and remove the dandelions from his property immediately or the village would be forced to take these matters into its own hands.
After a quick proof reading, Phillip Demaster signed the letter and, after making a copy for his own records, found an adequate envelope for it.
Not wishing to wait for the mail carrier to make his usual rounds, Phillip took it upon himself to deliver the letter to the post office post haste.  With great urgency he assumed a quick and deliberate pace as he set out to deliver his mail.
Still fuming as he walked Phillip debated just driving up to the compound, pouring gasoline over the fields and setting a match to it.  His anger had nearly washed all sense from him.  However, a remnant piece of rationality prevented him from actually following through with the ill-advised plan and he continued on his way.
As he continued his walk he began to calm down a bit and think with greater clarity.  Though he stated in the letter they must have immediate compliance to the dandelion ordinance, Phillip knew he would have to give them some time to respond.  Furthermore, he would need time to devise a plan as to the best way to go about killing their weeds once his hand was forced to action.
By the time Phillip had gotten to the post office and had delivered his letter to the postman, he had determined July fifteenth would be adequate time for them and him as it would allow almost three weeks for compliance.  A sense of accomplishment overshadowed the bitter anger he still housed, allowing him to return to his office at a slower pace.

                                                      
                                                 


























                                                 
                                                       

Chapter 7

As the days passed, the dandelions’ roots grew deeper into the earth while Maria painted practically non-stop from dawn until dusk.  Canvas after canvas was cut to fit each painting that blossomed in her mind.  Maria truly enjoyed being reunited with her old friends and had quickly become close with Melissa, who had been in Milwaukee for the past several days.  And though Maria missed Melissa’s company, she was grateful to have more time to catch up with Heather and Martin.
Maria realized what a special time this was in their lives, how fortune or fate had offered this opportunity to them.  Maria felt very much in her own element though she was far from her country and culture.  She was surrounded by good friends and her painting.
Having finished another canvas, Maria cleaned her brushes and tried to wipe the paint off her hands with a spirit soaked rag.  The realization of her hunger cracked through her gut with a gentle rumble.  Maria looked up at the clock on the wall to find the evening was closing in on seven.  She finished cleaning her hands, then walked back to the house among the stretching shadows of evening, satisfied with her production for the day.
Maria encountered Heather at the tracks.  Maria could tell by the amount of spattered clay that polk-a-dotted Heather’s face, arms, and shirt that she had put in a long day as well.  The two young ladies smiled as they greeted.  Maria was always amazed at how pretty Heather was, even when covered in clay.
“How’s it going?” Heather stopped and waited for Maria to come along side before continuing across the tracks.
“Great,” Maria replied.  “I’m really hungry though.  I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“Yeah, I know.  It’s amazing the things we forget when we’re engaged in a project,” Heather observed.
“I know.  I couldn’t believe the time when I saw the clock.  I can’t believe the day passed so fast,” Maria concurred.
“I’m not certain what to do first, eat or shower.”
“I know what you mean, but I think I’ll at least have to grab a little something to eat first,” Maria confessed.
They passed under an arch and crossed the patio.  A rich, familiar aroma filled the inside of the depot.  Maria grabbed a handful of cheese curds as Heather followed the sweet burning corn-like stink into the living room to find Dipak and Martin hanging out hitting the bowl.
“At it again, huh boys?” Heather asked.
“Well I figured we better smoke up since I still had some left,” replied Dipak, offering the pipe to Heather.
“No thanks, maybe later.  If I partake before showering and eating I’ll go to bed dirty and hungry.”
Maria entered the room, the fresh, plump curds squeaking against her teeth as she chewed.  She sat on the couch next to Dipak.  He silently offered the pipe to Maria.  With a wrinkle of her nose she casually shook her head as she bit into another curd.  Illicit drug use was not something Maria partook in.  However, it did not trouble her that others did.  In fact, there was a brief time in her past when she smoked marijuana frequently.  But for her it was a passing fancy.  After awhile getting high did nothing for her, so she just stopped.  She did also appreciate Dipak offering, even though she doesn’t smoke now, she knew she might try it again one day.
“How’s your book coming?” Maria asked Dipak.
“Never ending re-writes.  I just had to get away for a bit.  One of these days I’m just gonna stop, print the copies and start binding.”
Maria was very curious of Dipak’s work.  She had yet to read any; however, he had explained his current project to her.  Dipak was writing a chapbook in which he was trying to achieve perfect balance and mathematical perfection with written word.  Maria did not completely understand exactly what this entailed, but she assumed he was attempting to create precision with rhyme and meter as Bach had done with music.
“You should take a look at it, see what you think,” he offered. 
“I would love to.  Can I look at it in the morning?”
“Whenever you like.  I’ll leave it on my chair so you can find it if I’m not around.  If I don’t put it there you might not be able to find it.”
“I’ll look for it in the morning,” Maria said standing up.  “I’ve got to get to the shower now,” she said placing the last cheese curd in her mouth.
“Me too,” said Heather following Maria.
“Hey, we’re gonna cook out tonight,” Martin shouted after them.  “So you ladies care to join us?”
“Yeah, I’m in,” Heather replied.
“Me too,” said Maria over her shoulder as she continued down the hall.
After stopping in her room to pick out some clean clothes she proceeded to the bathroom.  Maria thought Sonny did a very good job in designing the bathroom.  It was a large room that took up almost a quarter of the house.  Sonny had built a wall down the middle of the room.  The wall covered three quarters of the distance from the wall to the door so one was able to walk through the doorway finding the space equally divided.  On either side of the wall were two sinks, two toilet stalls, and two shower stalls.  One side had been designated for the men, the other for the women.  Maria found these arrangements were a practical solution to accommodate the number of residents in the depot while allowing adequate privacy.
Maria entered the bathroom.  She could hear Heather already had water running to one of the showers.  Maria set her clean clothes on a wooden bench near her shower stall and disrobed.  She stepped into the shower letting warm water rush over her.  As she stood there trying to scrub the paint from her hands with scrub brush, she remembered Melissa was to return sometime today.  Sonny left yesterday to bring her from Milwaukee. 
Maria found herself a bit anxious to see how things went for Melissa, and wished nothing but the best for her.  Melissa had become a surrogate sister.  Maria had a great deal of respect for her and admired her strength.  Melissa had grown up impoverished.  Her parents had an abusive relationship.  The violence eventually became so indiscreet that her father was discovered and arrested.  Melissa was about to be taken into protective custody when her grandmother stepped forward agreeing to care for her.  Melissa’s
grandmother was the first to teach her how to knit and crochet.  Since then she perfected those skills as well as some others.  She had also taken a few business classes at a community college but never graduated or got any kind of degree.  Still, Melissa was able to sustain herself with the skills she developed, and aspires to one day own a small farm on which she would raise her own sheep and llama to produce the wool for the items she made.
Hunger again interrupted Maria’s thoughts, urging her to finish the shower.  Having scrubbed herself clean, Maria dried off and wrapped herself in a towel.  She stepped out to find Heather in a robe gently squeezing the water from her hair with a towel.  Steam filled the room coating everything with a dull slick vapor.
“How do you think Melissa made out?”  Heather asked.
“I don’t know,” Maria replied.  “I was thinking about her too.”
“How are you doing production wise?”
“Right now I’m doing really well.  I’m getting a lot done.  How about you?”
“I think I’m going to run into the same problem Melissa had before too long.  My storage space is nearly full,” Heather said hinting dissatisfaction as she slid her panties on underneath her robe. 
“You can put some things in my studio if you want,” Maria offered.
“Really? I don’t want to crowd you.”
“Yeah, it won’t be a problem.  I don’t need the same storage you do.  Right now most of my stuff is hanging on the walls,” Maria said as she turned her back to Heather and stepped into her panties before dropping the towel to put on her bra.
“Thank you so much,” Heather smiled.  “That will help me out a bunch.”
“Just bring stuff over whenever you want.”
Having finished dressing and preening, the young ladies followed the aroma of burning wood to the patio.  There Dipak and Martin had logs burning in the fire pit and the bottles of beer chilling in slowly melting ice in a large tin bucket.
Heather and Maria each opened a beer and relaxed in the chairs near the fire.  Dusk was beginning to settle in for the night as fireflies sparked here and there.  The crickets and frogs chirped madly in the surrounding fields and wetlands as the fire
popped in the pit offering orange sparks to the dark azure sky.
Martin positioned the tripod over the fire letting the grill dangle just above the flames as Dipak took one last hit on the bowl, and then clapped the ashes into the fire.
The conversation was light and lively.  Maria, relaxed and felt herself melting into the chair.  She leaned her head back, gazing off into the twilight as a warm breeze delicately pushed smoke over her. 
After a couple of beers and a couple more logs, the fire had a coal base ready for cooking.  Maria was glad to see Martin and Dipak bring out assorted vegetables and meats as she noticed she and Heather were getting giggly.  Martin lowered the grill closer to the coals and positioned chicken breasts, bratwurst, and tofu on one half and green bell peppers, leeks and corn on the cob on the other.  Rich hardy aromas only produced by foods cooked outdoors over an open fire wafted into the air.
The screen door to the depot opened and Melissa and Sonny stepped on to the patio to join the others.  As the greetings and warm returns were given, Melissa and Sonny opened beers and assumed vacant chairs.
“How did it go?” Heather asked Melissa.
“Really well,” she replied.  “I didn’t sell quite as much as I would have liked, but Steve said he would keep selling for me and mail me checks every week or two, depending on how things sell.”
“Nice,” Dipak added.
Melissa lit two cigarettes and handed one to Sonny.
“Thanks,” he said.  “So, what did we miss around here?”
“Not a whole lot, man,” Martin replied as he rotated the food on the grill with tongs.  Then he chuckled.  “You did get some mail though.  I put it in your room.”
“What is it?” Sonny asked suspiciously, knowing Martin knew more than he was letting on.
“Nothing, man, just some fan mail,” Martin said with a wink and a grin.
Sonny leaned forward mumbling.  He took another drag of his cigarette then went to his room to read his ‘fan mail’.  Sonny entered his room to find a small stack of mail
atop the unmade sheets of his bed.  He had a good idea of who the letter was from.  Anger erupted in him when he flipped to the letter from the Mayor of Liberty.  Sonny gnashed his teeth as he tore through the top of the envelope and pulled out the latest threat from DeMaster.  After carefully reading it through, Sonny took a deep breath and a gulp of beer, then crushed the letter in his hand.  He took a few minutes to check his bitter anger before returning to his fireside chair.
A hush befell the group as Sonny assumed his seat and tossed the ball of paper into the fire.  Martin was taking some of the vegetation off the grill to a large platter atop a small table to his side.
“What’s up?” Martin asked casually.
Sonny shook his head and sipped his beer, knowing Martin was, albeit good naturedly, trying to get a rise out of him. 
“I got nothing,” Sonny replied, not about to give Martin the satisfaction.  But he noticed Martin grinning anyway.
“So, anyway,” Melissa spoke up.  “Sonny, Steve and I were on our way to a small theatre run by a friend of Steve.  There were a couple of guys opening a performance art show that is going to run for a couple weeks.  Anyway, bum comes staggering out of the alley and before he could complete asking us for spare change, Steve starts barking at him like an attack dog.  It scared the hell out of the guy.  I think he shit himself he was so scared.  I’ll never forget the classic look of fear and confusion on his face.”
“No way, barking like a dog?” Dipak chuckled, “I have got to remember that one.”
“Okay, man,” Martin interrupted, “the food is done.  Help yourselves.”  He finished the last sips of his beer and went to get another.
Maria followed Heather to load up a plate then returned to her seat.  Dipak pulled up a chair next to Maria placing a plate of food on his lap.  Maria glanced at him and smiled as she chewed slowly, savoring the meal.
The dark of night had taken full hold casting everything in its shadowy blanket.  Maria looked about the patio cast in the orange hue of the fire, ending abruptly past the columns giving her the impression that the patio was an island floating through the abyss of space.  She was always amazed at how dark night was in the country.  Having grown up and lived most of her life in cities, she had easily forgotten how completely encompassing the night was.
As she tipped her head back draining the last of her bottle, she looked to the sky.  The dusty white trail of the Milky Way cut through the void of space littering it with stars.  For a moment she felt small and insignificant as she lost herself in its majesty.
Sonny’s voice brought her back to earth.  “Here you are,” he offered her a fresh beer.
“Thanks,” Maria replied a bit surprised at the offer.  Sonny handed a fresh beer to Heather as well.
“So how is your painting coming?”  Dipak asked.  “I’m sorry, I meant to ask earlier.”  He took a mouthful of food waiting for her response.
“It’s going really well.  I’ve been able to spend a good ten to twelve hours a day painting.  But I’ve got a lot of canvas to cover yet.”
Dipak shook his head.  “You have too much of the ant in you, Maria,” he said with a teasing smile.
Maria was not certain what he meant by that, but before she could ask he continued.
“You need to take some time off, get out and explore the world around you.  Your paintings are in you.  They’re not going anywhere.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” Maria replied.  “But I have this phobia that if I don’t finish something while I’m inspired I will forget about it.”
Dipak shrugged.  “That may be, but I think you should get out a little.  You gotta pace yourself so you don’t burn out.  We have a lot of time left before the opening.”
“Labor Day weekend,” Sonny said with his mouth half full.  “I promise you guys.  Everything should be done a week before that.  We need to get flyers up at the end of the month.”  He focused on Dipak.
“How many do you want?” he asked calmly.
Sonny thought for a moment.  “Let’s start with 500.  We can make more if we need to.  I would like to canvas as far as Green Bay and Manitowoc.  I also want to get ads in the local papers.”
“I can get the fliers done this week.  I’ll make up a prototype tomorrow,” Dipak assured Sonny.
“Great,” Sonny replied as he carried his empty plate into the house.
An underlying excitement began to grow around the group as the realization of opening actually seemed within sight, their energy seemed to fuel the fire in the center of their circle.
Sonny returned from the house and began lighting citronella torches and candles outlining the perimeter of the patio.  “Just put your plates in the sink when you’re done,” he informed everyone.  “I’ll clean that shit up later.”  Then he returned to his seat and
pulled out a fat sticky bud from a plastic bag and packed in a small metal pipe
Having finished eating, Maria got up and asked if anyone needed their plates taken in.  Heather handed Maria her plate, and thanked her.  Melissa also got up with her empty plate.
“I can get that for you,” Maria offered.
“It’s okay; I have to go inside anyway.”
“Thank you Martin,” Maria said.  “This was wonderful.”
The two women entered the kitchen placing their plates in the sink tub full of water.
“So how were things while I was gone?”  Melissa asked.
“They were fine, lots of work, nothing new.”  Maria studied Melissa for a minute.  She looked at Maria shyly as if she had some big secret she wanted to share and was waiting for permission to tell it.
“What?” Maria finally asked with a giggle.
“Do you remember that ‘fan mail’ Martin mentioned earlier that came for Sonny?”
Maria nodded.
“That was probably another demand from the mayor that we comply with their silly little ordinance.”
“So?” Maria did not understand what Melissa was getting at.
“So, Sonny and Martin will probably plan some way to retaliate.  That I don’t really care about, but sometimes their plans get to be excruciatingly elaborate.  They can’t be spending time on that crap now if we plan to open the end of next month.”
Melissa’s concern was now clear to Maria; however, Maria began to sense she did not comprehend the depth of the conflict going on around her. 
“Give me a hand with this,” Melissa instructed motioning for Maria to follow her.  They entered Melissa’s bedroom.  Maria was surprised at how disheveled her room was.  The bed was unmade, there were clothes overflowing from the hamper and scattered haphazardly on the floor around it.  The top of her dresser was cluttered with books, magazines and papers all but concealing pictures of her grandmother.  The appearance of Melissa’s room was the complete opposite of her studio.  Melissa’s studio was always neatly organized.  There was space for everything and everything was in its place.  This was a surprising Jekyll and Hyde side of Melissa.
Melissa unplugged a small stereo and picked it up.  “Grab some CDs,” she instructed Maria.
“Which do you want?”
“I don’t really care.  I think it’s all good.  Just grab whatever you want.”
Maria haphazardly sifted through a small pile of CDs grabbing a few titles she recognized and a few she didn’t, but found herself drawn to the cover.  She then led Melissa back to the patio opening the door for her.
A cloud of smoke billowed out from Sonny as he passed the pipe to Martin and mumbled softly to him.  Dipak and Heather were throwing more wood on the fire, stoking it so its orange flames cast long shadows which stretched out to the night.  The arches surrounding the patio glowed a soft yellow, reflecting the firelight.  Their tops cut a crisp plane which separated the patio from the star filled night sky.  A few fireflies sparked in the air above the field surrounding the patio as crickets and spring peepers chirped madly. 
Melissa eventually found the outdoor outlet and plugged in the small stereo.  Maria neatly stacked the CDs next to the stereo and returned to her chair.  Heather sat down next to her and inhaled deeply from the pipe.  She held her breath and handed the pipe  to Maria, who stared into the brass bowl contemplating her desire for its contents.
The familiar sound of Jonathan Richmond comfortably filled the air blending evenly with the natural sounds surrounding them.  Melissa took the vacant seat next to Maria who handed her the bowl.  Melissa in turn tapped Dipak on the back of his arm interrupting him as he stood before the fire as if hypnotized, poking at its undulating coals with a stick.  Dipak in turn took another hit of rich aromatic smoke and returned the pipe to Sonny.
It struck Maria that this was the first time this circle of friends had all been together at once since her arrival weeks ago.  The have all kept themselves busy with their craft or working on the gallery so they could achieve their shared goal.  She enjoyed this break as they had all been working very hard.  Maria also realized the deep attachment she had to this group.  It was a feeling that reminded her of her family.  This realization triggered a profound longing to see her family again.  She had been so focused on her work and making the gallery she had forgotten how much she missed them.  Maria felt a sad longing creep into her chest.  In an effort to prevent becoming melancholy she promised herself to call home the next day and reengaged in conversation with her friends.
The conversation and jokes flowed with the beer under the clear star swept night.  Log after log was pitched on the fire as their little party carried them deep into the night.  Finally the fire was allowed to burn to embers and one by one with spinning heads they retired for the rest of the night.











                                                           






                                                 











                                           Chapter 8

Maria whisked a paint brush through a jar of mineral spirits washing out the green-ochre paint she had used for a landscape.  She let the brush to soak for a minute as she studied the canvas.  Maria felt a deep void in this painting, but she could not understand what was missing.  With a sigh she flopped down on a chair and buried her face in her paint spattered hands.  For weeks now Maria had worked non-stop, spending day after day recording moments of life on canvas.  When Maria was not painting she was helping Sonny and the others build the gallery.  The initial excitement of being a part of this project had long since passed, and her work was now beginning to show signs of uninspired flop sweat. 
She thought perhaps she was still hung-over from the night before, but that had never affected her ability to paint before.  In fact, the few times she was hung-over in the past she found painting to be the perfect distraction from that quiet misery.
As she sat there, she thought of her family.  She missed them horribly, especially her mother.  This was normally the time when Maria was able to return home for a couple of months and relax with all her family and friends before returning to school in the fall.  Maria called her family weekly, sometimes more, but no matter how long she spent on the phone with them it could not replace being there with them. 
A wave of depression, riding on sadness and guilt of having not gone home, rose within her.  Eyes watering, Maria bit her lip to keep from crying.  She had gotten up too late in the morning to call and she knew no one of her family would be home yet from their daily routines.
“I need a break,” she said aloud in a quivering sigh.  Then she got up and took sips from a bottle of water.  Maria began to realize she was probably pushing herself too hard.  Her production of her first few weeks was fantastic in quantity and quality, but now the inspiration had evidently, mysteriously, vanished.  She insisted on working daily, unlike her neighbor, Dipak.  Maria found him an odd character who was quite aloof and scattered.  He wrote when inspired.  And when inspired, he would not stop.  On a couple of occasions since she had been there he had been up for over twenty-four hours straight, writing nonstop until completely exhausted.  However, until the inspiration struck, Dipak spent time hiking through the woods or playing in his garden or exploring areas and villages of the Peninsula.
Maria began to think Dipak may be right.  Perhaps she would take a couple of days and spend time away from the studio.  After a short mental debate, Maria convinced herself she earned the reward of time off.  She sipped a little more from her bottle, and suddenly realized she had not explored any of the surrounding area outside of Liberty and the depot compound since she arrived.  Feeling very self-conscious of this, she left the paint and unfinished canvas for another day.




                                                 



    Chapter 9

Maria followed the wide path to the lake.  Long overgrown and covered with tall grass and weeds one could only tell it existed by the hole carved through the woods.  The cool shade fell over her as she passed under the trees, their arching branches covered overhead letting sunlight dance between their leaves as they rustled in the breeze off the lake.  She smiled as she realized this was the first full summer she had seen in years.  Her commute between hemispheres had her always in autumn, winter or spring, except when she was home over Christmas break.
The grass covered path emptied on to a sand beach.  Large pieces of wood peeked out from under the sand giving evidence to the history of the port.  In the water before her rows of pylons stood outlining where the hulking dock once waded off shore.  Now, gulls, cranes and an occasional pelican basked in the sun atop the pylons.
Maria took off her sandals letting her toes swim through the warm sand as she walked down the beach.  She passed a rock fire ring with driftwood piled next to it.  Casually she continued her stroll along the beach, the summer sun gently poured over her, ever so gently toasting her skin.
After about ten minutes Maria came to a small cove surrounded by a short limestone bluff.  The top of the crystal water glistened brilliantly in the early afternoon sun as waves gently rolled to their resting place ashore.  An overwhelming sense of peace quickly grew in her.  The warmth, the peace, the beauty, it was all so pure.  She felt the need to join nature as intimately as she could and decided the best way to do so was to go for a swim.  She slowly turned, surveying the area.  Nothing but forest behind her, she saw no one else on the beach, and nothing but the clear expanse of Lake Michigan before her. 
Quickly she pulled the scrunchie from her hair and disrobed, leaving her clothes in a pile on the beach.  Cautiously Maria stepped into the water, anticipating its cold grip.  The warm sun embraced her naked body as her feet slipped into the cold lake.  Slowly she waded across the slabs of sand covered limestone that covered the floor, creeping deeper into the cold clear lake, and stopped when she was waist deep.  The water was surprisingly cold.  She took a few quick, shallow breaths, and then mustered up her courage and dove forward, immersing herself under the surface, satisfying her desire to enter the water.  Seconds later she burst through the calm surface.  She stood waist deep, gasping in shock of the cold.  As she caught her breath she arched her back exposing the hard cherry-brown nipples of her firm breasts to the sun.  The warm contrast was brilliant.  She closed her eyes and laid back floating face up on the surface, relaxing in the warm summer sun and refreshing in the cold waters of Lake Michigan. 
Maria lost sense of time as she drifted atop the water.  She could feel her soul re-energizing with every movement.  Maria rolled over on her belly and sank beneath the water again, holding her breath as long as she could, letting the brisk water further awaken her.  Unable to hold her breath any longer she popped out of the water with a gasp.  A deep howling bark of a dog jolted her.  Wiping her hair from her face and water
from her eyes, Maria saw a beagle standing over clothes.  The dog stood tail straight barking at her.
“Pavlov, no!” a woman’s voice yelled.
Maria saw an average sized, barefoot, gray haired woman wearing a light blue t-shirt and jeans walking quickly toward the dog. 
“Pavlov, come here!” the woman commanded.  But, the dog stayed where he was, watching Maria, occasionally sniffing at her clothes.
“Sorry!” the woman yelled and waved to Maria as she clipped a leash to the dog’s collar.
Maria crossed her arms over her breasts in a vain attempt to conceal her nudity.  She could feel the tops of her ears and her cheeks growing warm at the expense of her modesty. 
What the hell is this? She thought.  There is no one around for miles until you take off your clothes.
With the beagle under control of the leash, the woman continued down the beach leading the dog in the direction from which Maria had come.  Maria stood in the water, arms crossed, waiting until she felt the two were far enough away that she was comfortable her modesty would not interfere with returning to the beach to dress.
Maria trudged out of the water feeling a bit disappointed and cheated that her swim was interrupted.  However, she also felt refreshed and was pleased to have found such a beautiful place to swim.  Maria shook sand out of her bra and shirt before putting
them on.  Still she could feel the tiny grains of sand which had clung to her clothes were now trapped against her wet body.  As she was pulling up her panties and her shorts she saw the woman with the dog was returning.  Maria ran her fingers through her long, wet hair several times, and then pulled it through the scrunchie, leaving her ponytail to hang dripping down her back.
“Hello,” the woman greeted as she approached.  “I’m sorry we interrupted your swim.”  The beagle pulled forward stretching the leash taught as he sniffed at Maria.
“That’s okay,” Maria replied.  She squatted down cautiously offering the back of her hand to the dog’s frantic nose.  The instant Pavlov sniffed Maria’s hand, his tail began swinging quickly side-to-side.
“Hi, what’s your name?” Maria asked in a childish, playful voice, even though she had already been informally introduced to the small hound.
“That’s Pavlov,” the woman chuckled.  “I’m Jean.  I live down the beach a ways.  Are you one of the artists living with Sonny?”
The question surprised Maria.  She found it odd a stranger would know anything of that. 
“Yes,” she answered suspiciously.  “How do you about that?”
“Oh, I’ve known Sonny since he moved in and began fixing up the place.  He told me he was planning to have some artists stay with him and open a gallery.  I know he tries to keep things quiet, but the man cannot keep a secret after a couple of glasses of wine.  You can tell him I said that too.”  She gave Maria a smiling wink and a nod.
Maria began to sense Jean was a good woman who would speak honestly and frankly.  In fact, she reminded Maria of her aunt Lucia who was well known within, and for that matter, outside of the family for her forthright manner.
“Well I supposed we need to be getting back,” Jean said. 
Maria reluctantly ceased scratching the dog behind the ears.
“I have to make some lunch.  Would you like to join us….”  Jean’s eyes searched Maria, as if looking for some cue.  “I’m sorry, dear, what is your name?”
Maria stood blankly for a moment, processing the question put to her.  Suddenly
she realized the second question, Maria felt her ears and cheeks again growing warm with embarrassment.  She had not meant to be so rude as to not introduce herself.  “I’m sorry,” she blurted.  “I’m Maria.”
“Well, Maria, would you like to join Pavlov and me for lunch?”
Maria thought quickly, evaluating her gut feeling.  She did not sense any threat or feel uncomfortable in any way about the proposition.  Maria found dog owners to be a genuinely kind and friendly sort, generally.  She also considered the fact that until last night it had been weeks since she had a real cooked meal.  The boxes, cans, frozen pizzas and Ramen Noodles, had gotten her by to this point, but Maria loved home cooked meals.  She found them to be the same everywhere she had been.  The food may be different than what the came to know as a girl in Peru, but all home cooked meals shared a particular quality.  She found a certain wholesomeness and richness in these meals, and in that sense they shared a similar flavor.  She longed for the rich home made food that was the only way she could whet her appetite.  Maria felt saliva accumulate under her tongue. 
“I would like that very much.  Thank you,” she accepted graciously.
Jean smiled as she walked by Maria, Pavlov straining the leash.  Jean motioned for Maria to walk along side.  “So, Maria, where are you from?”





















         






Chapter 10

A short while later they came to a small house situated upon a short bluff overlooking the expansive lake.  Maria followed Pavlov and Jean up a brief path of limestone stairs which curved slightly as they hugged the natural contour of the bluff upon which the house was seated.  The top landing of the stairs opened up to a neatly trimmed, little yard flanked by well maintained flower gardens.
Maria rubbed her nose as she could feel the subtle sweet scent of perennials tickle her sinuses.  She had not yet completely gotten used to the pollens in North America and during the spring and summer often found herself fending off sneezes.
The yard was surrounded by old growth forest on the north and west sides of the house.  The forest was far enough from the gardens to provide adequate afternoon shade without depriving the flowers morning sunlight.  The east and the south had completely unobstructed views of the lake and shore.  Maria could hear the waves of the fresh water ocean gently push ashore to meet the rocks below as a light breeze softly shook the leaves of the trees.
“The view is fantastic,” Maria said with an air of envy as she walked over to inspect the gardens near the edge of the bluff.
“Yeah, but I pay for it every winter.  There is nothing to stop the wind off the lake and it never seems to let up from late November through February.”
Maria remembered the wind from her days at the UW- Green Bay.  She understood what Jean was saying.  The stiff gusting winds were relentless and daily.  They seemingly came at you from every direction, delivering a cold that felt as if it chewed right through her.  The thought alone nearly made her shiver.
“Your gardens are beautiful.”  Maria said as her attention turned back to summer.
“Thanks,” Jean replied smiling.  “I’ve had the time the past two years to really give them the attention they need.  You should have seen them before I retired though.  They were a real mess.”
Maria wandered about, inspecting the gardens as a gentle breeze luffed off the lake.  When satisfied with her observations, she turned to Jean who led her into the house.
Entering into the kitchen, Maria could see Jean appreciated things being neat and tidy.  The kitchen was at the end of a large open space and was separated from the dining area by a counter.  The dining area gave way with a step down to the living room which immediately caught Maria’s attention as the far wall contained five foot windows from wall to wall exposing those inside to a spectacular view out over the lake and its craggy limestone shoreline below.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Jean said as she moved to the refrigerator.
Maria stepped out of her sandals and strode slowly over the cool terracotta tiles of the kitchen and dining area floors, taking note of paintings hung intermittently on the walls.  Maria found them all to be original paintings, not one print to be found.  And judging by their contents of landscapes and lakescapes, they all appeared to have been done by local artists.  She stepped down into the living room, curling her toes in the thick beige shag, noting the books and magazines of art and travel on the coffee table before the couch.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” Jean asked from the kitchen.
“Yes, that would be nice.  Thank you.”
Maria walked back to the counter where she was handed a long stemmed glass of a clear yellowish liquid with an unfamiliar aroma.  Seeing Jean take a big sip from her glass, Maria cautiously put hers to her lips, and poured a tiny bit of the cool liquid onto her tongue.  It was tangy and more tart than sweet with a gentle suggestion of butter.  Maria raised her eyebrows in approval, deciding it was a good summer drink and took another sip.
“What is this?” she asked.
“Its dandelion wine,” Jean replied as she diced a green pepper.  “What do you think of it?”
“It’s really nice, very summery.”
“Thanks, I made it myself.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I’ve always liked wine, any kind.  Brewing wine became a hobby when I retired.  I dabbled in it for years, but was never really able to set aside the time to really do it right until a couple of years ago.”
Jean pulled a couple of previously grilled chicken breasts from the refrigerator and warmed them in the microwave before placing them atop the bed of mixed spring greens.  After placing a small selection of salad dressing on the counter she sat next to Maria and they began to eat. 
The two women sat and chatted, taking their time with their meal, getting to know one another a shade more intimately.  By the time they had finished eating, they had also finished a bottle of wine.  With Maria’s consent, Jean opened a second bottle and they moved their conversation to the living room.
Maria found herself genuinely liking Jean which was strange for Maria in the sense that it usually took some time for her to get to know someone before she allowed them into her world.  Jean was different though.  Maria could not quite place it, but she felt a particularly subtle sense that Jean was more sisterly than motherly.  And given their age difference, Maria found that refreshing.
Maria also learned Jean had a colorful history.  She was married once and divorced, never had any children, and did not regret any of it.  Jean traveled often also.  Maria was amazed with Jean’s travel history.  She seemed to have been everywhere at one time or another.  She enthralled Maria with her stories of her travels to Europe, Asia, Africa and South America.  Aside from French, Jean did not speak any other language, but she had learned greetings and how to say “yes”, “no”, “please”, and “thank you” in every country she had visited.  Maria understood exactly how that little bit of courtesy went a long way.
The second bottle of wine took them late into the afternoon.  Maria felt a bit lightheaded and was giggly.  She could not believe she was buzzed again after the previous night.  Still she sat and chatted, enjoying Jean’s company.  When the second bottle had been drained, Maria decided it was best to get back to the depot.
Before Jean could suggest opening a third bottled of wine, Maria thanked Jean for her hospitality and said good-bye.  Jean cordially invited Maria to return any time she wanted.  And with that, Maria began her walk home feeling warm and fuzzy both inside and out in the warm, humid afternoon


Chapter 11

Maria returned the way she came.  She took off her sandals to walk barefoot in the water, letting her toes squeeze into the course sand.  A warm breeze encouraged swells to rush ashore, splashing about her knees upon breaking.  Under the hot, dazzling sun and muggy sky, she began to sweat out the wine as she went.
When she reached the area of the old pier she took a long look down the beach and out over the water.  She was very glad to have spent the day as she did.  For several hours she had been able to clear her mind and not think about painting, her studio or the gallery.  Walking up the path between trees without a hint of reluctance, Maria was excited to find the others and tell them of her day.  She knew the desire to so easily share the events of her day with the others was a little out of character for her, but she did not care, nor did she care about the sand grains she felt drying to her feet and lower legs.  The wine had taken a firm hold.
Nearing the gallery she could hear pounding hammers echo.  The front door and windows were wide open.  Inside, Sonny, Melissa, and Heather were constructing a partition.  They were all drenched in sweat and covered with a light coating of dust from wood and drywall.  Maria strolled in smiling and waited for the thunderous hammering to pause.
“Can I help?” she asked loudly.
“Hey Maria,” Sonny said as he set his hammer down.  “Sure.  Why don’t you give me a hand with drywall?”
Maria followed him over to a nearby table upon which rested a skill saw.  There were scraps of wood and drywall as well as thick piles of dust scattered about the floor.  She assisted him in picking up the pre-cut piece of drywall and together they slid it in place as Heather and Melissa secured it to the studs with hammers and nails.
Martin entered with his usual swagger.
“Where have you been, man?” Sonny asked.  “I thought you said you were going to be here a couple of hours ago.”
“Sorry man,” Martin replied casually.  “I was caught up in another project.”  He gave Sonny a discreet wink and nod.  Not subtle enough however to keep Melissa from noticing.
“Oh Jesus, Joseph and Mary,” she said angrily.  “Won’t you two just leave it alone?”
An unsettling hush befell the group. 
“What’d I say?” Martin asked defiantly with innocent eyes.
Melissa looked at him and shook her head with a sour expression.  “Just pick up a hammer or something.”  As she returned to pounding nails Sonny and Martin exchanged quick grins.
“Speaking of people who haven’t been around today,” Sonny began changing the subject.  “Where have you been today, Maria?”
Maria told them of the events of her day as they continued to construct the interior of the gallery.  She learned all of them knew Jean and shared similar experiences of drinking homemade wine at her house.
Forgetting about the tension between Martin, Sonny and Melissa, the group returned to working in the harmonious unison that had evolved earlier.  They worked for a few hours longer before Dipak burst through the doorway wearing a beret and sunglasses.  He held a radio in one hand blasting free jazz and a book of poetry by Lawrence Ferlinghetti in the other.  The group stopped their hammers as he set the radio down and quickly read through a poem aloud and then snapped his fingers when finished.  This drew a ripple of laughter through the others and forced them to realize the workday was done and together they returned to the house.
Maria noticed a slight throbbing at her temples as if the hammers continued to echo through her.  Then, as if the pounding burst open a locked door, Maria remembered she needed to call her family.  She did not feel lonely and melancholy about them as she did the night before.  In fact, she had completely forgotten about it all day until now.  She pondered how a new day could distract her so from something so important the night before.
New excitement coursed through her as she pictured her family.  As the others scattered about the kitchen and the living room Maria ignored their trivial diversions.  The plucked the cordless phone from it’s charging station and hurried down the hall to her room, the bottoms of her bare feet slapping the smooth wood floor.  She shutt the door behind her and smiled as she began dialing. 


                                       






















                                                 

    Chapter 12

Philip DeMaster sat behind his desk silently fuming.  “This last prank has gone too far,” he muttered to himself and pounded his desk once with a firm fist.  Phillip was nearly to the end of his rope with Sonny and the others.  He had tried friendship and reasoning, but those tactics failed long ago.  So, he resorted to threats and use of his, albeit limited, authority which also failed to produce the desired results.  But now drastic action must be taken.  This last act demanded stern resolution and punishment.  Through the window of his anger and disgust, Philip saw the direction he would take next.  “If they insist they are not part of the town,” he said aloud to himself in a low voice, “then they shall not be a part of this town.”
He rose from behind his desk and strode out of his office with great purpose.  Out in the lobby of the Hall he found Mrs. Knudson, the town clerk.
“Mrs. Knudson,” Philip called.  He considered her his secretary; it was part of the clerk’s duties in his eyes.  “I am calling together an emergency town meeting.  Schedule it for Wednesday night at seven p.m. please.”
Mrs. Knudson rolled her eyes and considered for a moment protesting his ordering her about.  However, she realized Philip had no idea of what an ass he was, she pitied him actually.  And, her grandmotherly instincts forced her to sigh as she moved to the scheduling calendar.
“I’m sorry Mr. DeMaster,” she reported.  “But I’m afraid the town hall is already scheduled for another meeting at that time.”
“What?  Who?”
“Your wife is hosting a rotary club meeting from seven to eight.”
“I see,” Philip went silent as his hand kneaded his chin.
Mrs. Knudson knew what he was thinking and decided to intervene before he had gotten too far down the wrong path.
“I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but I very seriously doubt Mrs. DeMaster would appreciate having her meeting rescheduled at such a short notice,” she suggested.
Philip stared at Mrs. Knudson for a minute then nodded in agreement.  “You’re right.  Schedule the emergency meeting for eight o’clock.”
Philip waited until he saw Mrs. Knudson writing the meeting in the schedule before leaving through the front door of the town hall.  As he descended the steps he took note of the two men removing the dandelions from the lawn, which were freshly planted the night before.  He paused for a moment as he felt a new wave of disgust pour through him.  That further encouraged him to proceed and he continued on his way to the rectory of St. Mary’s church.
The early afternoon air was thick and sticky.  Beads of sweat collected on Philip’s forehead and above his lip.  He could see dark clouds gathering on the horizon.  But Philip would not let this pending storm distract him from the business at hand.
He arrived at the small house next to the church he knocked on the screen door.  He waited for a minute, shifting back and forth, and was about to knock again when the door swung open.  Father Paul Brick stood before him.
“Well, hello Philip.”
“Hello Father Brick.”
“Please come in.”
Philip followed Father Paul into the living room.  The room was furnished with dated furniture that was still in good condition.  Pictures of Jesus, Joseph and Mary hung on the walls with an occasional crucifix hanging here or there.  On the desk in the corner was an open bible and note pad.  A cigarette lay burning in the ashtray next to a half empty Manhattan.
“Please have a seat,” Father Paul invited Philip to sit with him on the couch.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you, Father,” Philip began and sat.  “But something quite urgent has come up and I need for you to make an announcement after the mass on Sunday.
“Oh, certainly,” Father Paul said as he got off the couch and walked over to his desk where he took a drag of his cigarette and picked up the note pad.  “What would you like me to announce?” he asked, pen in hand.
“I have scheduled an emergency meeting at the town hall for Wednesday night at eight o’clock.”
“Oh really?” Father Paul asked while writing then looked up.  “What is this
about?”
Philip’s face was rock set in seriousness.  “The financial security of this town.”
Father Paul puffed his cigarette as he jotted another note.  Smoke drifted into his eye making it water.  He interrupted his writing to put the cigarette out, then sat side saddle on the chair at his desk so he could face Philip.  “This sounds serious Philip.  What is this about?”
Philip leaned forward, elbows to knees, intensity and anger pouring through his eyes.  “This is about lawlessness and those who perpetuate it.  It is about the good people of this town being under siege from those who continuously try to disrupt our fundamental industry that sustains business in this town.”  Realizing he was beginning to raise his voice, Philip eased back on the couch.
Father Paul returned the note pad to the desktop.  “Is this about the dandelions again, Philip?” He asked softly.
Philip thought for a moment, and then relaxed a bit.  “Yes, that is a small part of it.”
“Look, Philip,” Father Paul paused for a moment, took a sip of his Manhattan, and suddenly realized his inconsideration of his guest.  “I’m sorry Philip; could I get you a Manhattan or something else?”
Philip shook his head.  “No, I’m fine.  Thank you.”
Father Paul continued.  “I understand why you work so hard at keeping the dandelions out of the village, but you cannot enforce your will on those who do not live within its jurisdiction.  Besides, dandelions are God’s creatures too.  They are part of His plan.”
“As am I,” Philip retorted in a loud shard voice.  “I know I am doing the Lord’s good work in protecting this town, in moving it forward.  I can feel it.  And the people of this town can feel it too.  They have given me a mandate by continuously re-electing me as their mayor.”
Father Paul sat silently.  The volume of Philip’s voice had taken him by surprise.  The good priest thought better of reminding Philip that no one else wanted the mayor’s position and the only reason why he had been continuously re-elected was because he always ran unopposed.  Even so, Father Brick doubted Philip ever received more than ten
votes. 
Philip could feel his face becoming flushed as he realized the surprise on Father Paul’s face.  “I’m sorry, Father,” he apologized.  “I don’t mean to be so loud about it.  I just can’t help it.  I’m very passionate about what I believe in.”
“I know, Philip,” Father Paul replied.  Everyone who fights for what he believes in is fighting the good fight.  However, that does not necessarily make the fight just in the eyes of others.  And as they struggle against you, they believe they are fighting the good fight.”
“But God is with me in this, Father.  I can feel it.”
“And those who oppose you would say the same.”  Father Paul took another sip of his Manhattan, and then continued.  “ You see, Philip, we all use the Name of God as we see fit, for what we believe in, to justify anything we do, even if that work truly is unjust, but we believe in it.  Men are complex, weak and lazy.  They don’t want to think anymore than they have to.  These traits are not a good combination for problem solving.  However, the excuse of ‘God’s will’ is a quick way to simplify issues and strengthen support both within and around a person.  My point, Philip, is that you must remain true to the issue.  It is easy to become distracted with other items that seem related to the problem at hand, but actually have little consequence on the matter.”
         Philip stared, stone faced back at Father Paul, trying to digest what he had just been fed.
         “Do you understand what I’m trying to say, Philip?”  Father Paul took another sip of his drink.
         “Yes, I believe I do,” Philip replied, and started off the couch.  “Well, I best be going.”
         Father Paul stood up, doubting he would be hearing confession of that simple lie.  “Will I see you and your wife at the fish boil tonight?” he asked.
         “Of course,” Philip replied.  “Thank you again for your time Father.  I really appreciate your announcing the meeting at such short notice.”
         “You’re welcome, Philip.”  Father Paul’s words chased Philip out the door.  Then he simply sighed and took another sip of his cocktail.
         The low rumbling thunder echoed through the sky as fat juicy raindrops began plummeting to earth.  Philip felt it undignified to run from rain.  He continued at his normal pace, receiving his second shower of the day. 


                                                 


                                                           







  Chapter 13


         Maria sat on the couch in the living room sipping coffee and perusing the Sunday paper as some man on National Public Radio droned melancholy on about some place called “Lake Wobegon”.  It was late in the morning and she was just beginning to sense the humid heat sink in for the day.  She loved Sunday mornings.  It was the one day of the week that, up until this summer, she was certain to let herself do nothing.  Her first month in Liberty had been different as she had been working constantly, but now she was determined to give herself that one day of downtime from now on.  No matter where she was, Sundays always had a particular lazy comfort about them.  She was never in a hurry to do anything on Sundays.  Lazy mornings would eventually give way to lazy afternoons which she would usually spend with friends in cafes and theatres.
In Liberty, however, Maria had no idea what to do.  There was a café in town, but she had no idea where a theatre might be.  She flipped through the paper which was filled with stories of wars and American history, searching for the section of the paper listing movie times and locations.  A picture of fireworks drew her attention to an article.  She skimmed through it remembering that it was Independence Day for the United States.  She had never been in the States for this holiday before.  As she read along she learned picnics, cookouts, and parties with fireworks seemed to be how Americans occupied their time that day.
The screen door to the kitchen slammed shut with a loud pop causing Maria a start.  She could hear Melissa and Dipak pouring coffee and starting another pot.  They entered the living room together.
“Hey Maria,” Melissa greeted and sat next to her.  Dipak sat opposite them.
“Good morning,” Maria responded noting both of them had wet hair and their clothes were wet in patches.  Yet, she found it curious that neither seemed to be wearing a swimsuit.
“Do you want to go see some fireworks tonight?” Melissa asked and took a sip of coffee.  “We were thinking we could go by Holly’s Harbor.  They had a pretty good show
last year, well, from what we understand.”
“Yes, that sounds like fun.”  Maria thought for a moment.  “What do you do until then?”
“In an hour or two we’ll take a bunch of beers down to the beach and just slack all day,” Melissa replied.
“It’s really more of a day long party than anything else,” Dipak included.  “I’m certain it’s not what it used to be, especially with the gross commercialism of today.”
“Anyway,” Melissa continued as she looked Dipak off.  “You should join us.  It’ll be a good time.”
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Have you seen Sonny?” Dipak asked Maria.  “I have to go into town and pick up some booze and food and shit for today.”
“No,” Maria replied and took a sip of coffee.  “Maybe he went to church.”
Melissa and Dipak hesitated for a moment looking at one another with dancing eyes before erupting into laughter. 
A grin grew across Maria’s face.  “What?  It could happen,” she continued innocently.
“Oh, man,” Dipak stood up.  “Does anyone need anything while I’m out at the store?”
Maria and Melissa locked eyes for a moment.  Melissa could see a mischievous playfulness in Maria’s dark brown, earthy eyes. 
Maria turned to Dipak with a serious face.  “Tampons, I need tampons, lots of them.”
The girls monitored the flushing of his ears and cheeks as he stood silently motionless.  Melissa was having difficulty restraining her laughter as his discomfort clearly took up residence in the entire room.
“Okay,” Dipak said slowly.  “What kind?”
“Big ones.  As big as you can find.  And get some Midol too.  The cramps are horrible,” Maria ordered.
Dipak swallowed aloud.  Maria and Melissa began to laugh.
“What?” he asked innocently drawing heartier laughter from the girls.
“Just go,” Melissa said.  “We don’t need anything.”
Dipak’s features relaxed instantly to that news and he smiled unasuredly, knowing he had been the butt of a joke but did not understand why.  Without saying another word he walked out of the room like a scolded puppy.
Melissa’s eyes lingered after him.
“So what’s the story with you?” Maria asked, drawing Melissa’s attention back.
Melissa shook her head casually.  “There’s no story.”
Maria smiled politely at Melissa.
“What?  There’s nothing.”  She took a sip of coffee and set the cup on the coffee table.  She patted Maria on the knee.  “Let’s go for a walk.”
Maria smiled shyly and set her coffee and paper on the table and followed Melissa outside.
The sun struck down at them intensely as the air was choked thick with humidity.  It only took a few seconds before Maria noticed the sweat collecting across her forehead.  She moved alongside Melissa, following her lead down the path to the beach. 
Melissa and Maria stepped out of their sandals and carried them along letting their toes sink through the hot dry sand.  A steady breeze off the lake rustled their hair, but provided little relief from the damp heat enshrouding them.  Side by side they walked south past the skeleton pier.  A lone pelican sat defiantly atop a rotting pylon as squealing seagulls echoed through the stifling late morning while the waves rhythmically rolled ashore.
“So, do you see fireworks often at home?” Melissa asked.
Maria appreciated the fact that Melissa used the word ‘home’ instead of simply identifying the country she was from.  All too often in the U.S. people asked Maria questions about ‘Peru’.  Not that there was anything really wrong with that, however, to
Maria, there always seemed to be a certain sterility about those questions.  It was as if they were asking questions about an inanimate object she studied and knew the history of instead of a place that was more precious to her than any other.  Maria considered this a problem as it seemed Americans were never willing, or able, perhaps, to consider perceptions of someone from a different culture.  A foreigner was a foreigner, even if they lived in the United States.  Americans seemed to continuously isolate themselves by keeping other countries distant, forgetting that everywhere is only a plane ride away, and that cultures are continuously evolving and integrating.
“A couple of times a year,” Maria smiled in recollection of celebrations past.  “I’ve always enjoyed fireworks.”
“Those shows were probably a lot better than what we’ll see tonight.  It’ll be a good show, but its small town stuff, not like if we went to Milwaukee.”
They strode in silence a little further coming to a stop under a shaded patch of grass that had crabbed out through the sand and down the shallow embankment of the wide mouthed Yahanee River.  Across the river lied the unoccupied Liberty Park beach.  Maria was surprised at the solitude of the area.  It always seemed one could find a space to himself along the gentle sand beaches of Lake Michigan.
         Melissa dropped her sandals and plopped down on the sand.  Maria followed with greater body control, sitting to Melissa’s left.  The two stared out over the water.  Maria glanced at Melissa noting her face was slightly contorted and perspiration polka-dotted her forehead as she chewed her bottom lip.  Maria reached over and delicately swept a swath of Melissa’s damp blonde shoulder length hair away from her blue eyes and tucked it behind her ear.
         “What’s wrong?”
         Melissa pulled her knees to her chest and wrapper her arms around them.  She shook her head nonchalantly responding, “Nothing, I’m fine.”
         Maria shrugged and leaned back on her elbows, stretching her legs out, letting the warm summer sun beat through the wet blanket air to spill over her skin.  She closed her eyes for a moment and noticed a subtle weight to her right.  She opened her eye to find Melissa’s eyes watching her.  Before Maria could question her again Melissa asked, “Puedo ir a Peru con tu?”
         Her pronunciation was good enough, her accent was horrible, but Maria had no problem understanding the question.  Maria’s eyes widened as a smile stretched across her face leaking a soft laugh.
         “What?” Melissa asked as her eyebrows rose in uncertainty.  “Did I say it wrong?”
         “No,” Maria sat up.  “I just can’t believe you spoke Spanish to me.  Where did you learn that?”
         “I picked up a book on conversational Spanish the last time I was in Milwaukee.  I’ve been studying when I can find time.”
         Maria smiled and patted Melissa on the knee.  Melissa was the only person, aside from her first roommate, who actually did visit Maria for a week over a summer break, to ask to come visit her.  “Aye Chiquita, you can come anytime you like.  You will always be welcome.”
A broad smile spread across Melissa’s face as she glanced away bashfully.  “When do you think you’ll get back?”
         The smile receded from Maria’s face.  The breeze forced her to pull her long dark hair from her eyes as she quickly remembered how she missed her family, her country, the sights, sounds and smells of everything familiar. 
         “I’m not certain,” she replied softly.  “I might be able to get back for a week or two at the end of summer.  But, that will depend on how things go here and if I have everything set up for school.  I’ll go over Christmas holiday for sure.”
         Melissa nodded.  “I probably won’t have my passport until then anyway.”
         Maria lay back on the coarse, thick blades of grass poking through the sand, resting the back of her head in her palms and began daydreaming about showing Melissa Peru.  A quiet excitement trickled through her as she started prioritizing places to see and things to do to entertain her visiting friend.  Then a thought occurred to Maria and she realized she was being presumptuous.          
         “What do you want to see while you’re there?”  Maria asked Melissa who was stretching out in the grassy sand next to her.  “Where do you want to go?”
         Melissa’s hazy blue eyes stared off into the equally hazy blue sky as if she were peering into the future.
         “I would like to visit an alpaca farm and also learn some techniques for weaving sweaters and caps and stuff like that.  And of course I’d have to see Machu Pichu.  Aside from that I don’t know of any other must see things.”
         Maria grinned.  “I know of a place outside of Cuscos.  We could spend a day or two there where you could meet some of the local farmers who still make clothing the traditional way.  Besides, it’s a good place to stop on the way to Machu Pichu.”
         “It sounds great,” Melissa replied.
         “It is.  We should do that trip first so we can take our time and feel not rushed.  If we spend the whole time you’re there doing that, it’s fine.  But I hate feeling rushed from one thing to the next.  Besides, there is too much to for me to show you in one trip.  I think it’s better if you see less but get a full flavor and appreciation for what you do see.”
         “Quality over quantity,” Melissa concurred.
         Melissa stretched out next to Maria resting her head in her hands.  The two of them lay there silently watching the breeze push fat white clouds across the blue background.  Maria could feel an occasional grain of sand skip across areas of exposed skin as white capped waves rolled rhythmically ashore.  Maria’s eyes followed a lone seagull drifting along the shoreline in updrafts when their solitude was rudely interrupted by the quick repetitive crack of firecrackers being lit off across the river.
         Melissa sat up and observed a couple of boys in their early teens in the park across the river.  They pulled another package from the top of a satiated paper bag on the beach between them.  She watched as one them buried a large firecracker in the sand leaving only the wick exposed.  With a sigh she sat up and vainly tried to brush the sand sticking to her sweat dampened skin.
         “It never fails,” Melissa stated sourly as Maria sat up to look across the river.  “Why don’t we head back?  I was really looking for some peace and quiet.  Those damn firecrackers are annoying.”
Maria agreed with a nod and the two young ladies began their stroll, leaving the loud pop of the firecracker and the cheers of the boys behind them.                     
         As they followed the natural curve of the shoreline, Maria stepped into ankle deep cool water, letting the waves crash into her knees.  A few of them licked far enough up her thigh to graze the bottom of her shorts.  Melissa moved alongside her and pointed to a whisper of smoke rising from the shore just beyond the skeleton ruins of the pier.  They could see a few figures moving about and setting objects on the sand.  Feeling no great urgency to rush to the party, the two nubiles continued wading leisurely toward the
others.  When close enough, Maria recognized a small, familiar dog racing toward them.  She smiled as Pavlov skidded to a stop in the sand before them, barking a deep howling bark while wagging his tail.
         “Well hello Pavlov,” Maria greeted with a smile.
         Pavlov chopped off a few more menacing notes at them, but did not move from his spot in front of them as he wagged his tail.  Melissa and Maria never broke stride as they continued to the little hound and gave him a rub on the head and behind the ears, silencing his bark.  He sprinted ahead of them kicking up sand.
         Maria smiled when she saw Jean setting up a couple of lawn chairs in the sand away from the fire and in the shade of the tree line.  Then she sat in one parked next to a chest cooler.  She waved to Maria and Melissa beckoning them to come sit.  Sonny was also there piling logs neatly off to the side of the fire pit and tended the smoldering fire intermittently.  This was one of the few times Maria saw him wearing shorts.  Every time he did though, she couldn’t help but stare momentarily at his legs as she was astonished at how fish-belly white they were.
         “Hello,” Jean hollered as she forced the cork from a bottle of wine, its gentle pop signaling the party had begun.  She then poured the bottles contents into a short fat glass until about half full.
         The young ladies simultaneously returned Jean’s greeting as they approached.
         “How have you been?” Maria asked.
         “Just fine dear, how are things with you?”
         “I’m doing well.”
         “How are you Melissa?” Jean asked.  “I haven’t seen you in several weeks.”
         “I’m good,” she began while plopping down in a chair next to Jean.  “Been real busy though.  I was in Milwaukee for a little bit awhile ago.  But, everything is going well.”
         “Well good.  Would either of you care for some wine?” Jean offered.
         “How can I refuse?” replied Melissa with a smile.
         Maria sat in a chair next to the cooler leaving Jean between her and Melissa as they faced out over the lake.  “That would be nice,” Maria accepted.
         Jean slid a stiff handled wicker basket from under her chair and pulled out a couple of short, fat glasses.  “I love this basket,” she said to Melissa as she slid it back under her chair.  “It has come in so handy on so many occasions.”
         “Good,” Melissa responded as Jean reached into the cooler.  “I’m glad you like it so well.”
Jean filled the glasses three quarters of the way full with the chilled bottle from the cooler.  “Here,” she said handing each girl a glass.  “You should like this, Maria.  It’s called Prairie Fume, a fabulous little wine from the Wollersheim winery in Prairie Du Sac which is more toward the center of the state, ‘bout a four hour drive from here.”
         Maria sniffed over the glass catching the fruity vapors of the clear, chilled nectar in her nose as it mixed with the lake breeze.  At first it reminded her of Chardonnay, but there was something subtly different.  Unable to determine the exact difference, she put the glass to her lips and gently allowed a tiny wave of the refreshing drink roll into her mouth.
         “It’s really good,” Maria interjected, surprisingly satisfied by a Wisconsin made wine.  “It’s really quite lovely,” she added.  “It’s subtly sweet with citrus and just a suggestion of smoke.  I don’t think I’ve ever had anything quite like it.”
         “Well I brought a half case so we have as much as you like.  There’s plenty to go around.”
         Maria thanked her, but had already decided to pace herself and keep her consumptions in moderation.  It was too hot and she would have to be up too late to see the fireworks if she were drunk by early afternoon.
         Heather and Martin strolled barefoot onto the beach carrying a cooler between them.  Maria grinned in amusement at the fact that Martin, with his afro, looked twice the size of Heather.  They set the cooler down in the shaded area and each carried a lawn chair over to the three women.
         “Ladies,” Marin greeted in a deep, jovial voice as he unfolded his chair and sat.
         “Hello Martin,” Jean replied.  “How have you been Heather?  I haven’t seen either of you in awhile.”
         “I’ve been good,” Heather responded with a broad smile.  “Lots of work around
here, so I’ve been busy.”
         “We all have,” Martin added.  “How are you doing Jean?”
         “Just fine.  Would either of you care for some wine?”
         Martin grinned.  “You know I could never say no to you Jean.”
         Sonny, having collected more than enough wood for awhile, jogged back toward the compound.
         Maria sat in the shadow of the overbearing sun with her eyes closed, listening to the others catch up.  She felt waves of relaxation ripple through her every time the lake rhythmically broke upon the beach.  She could feel a fine layer of moisture covering her
body.  Though the warm breeze was not much relief from the hot, humid air, she was glad to have it.  Maria drifted off into a state of daydream, as she thought of her family and allowed herself to miss them, savoring for a few delicious moments what each of them meant to her.
         A sudden outburst of laughter brought her back to the group.  Maria opened her eyes to find Sonny and Dipak had returned with a cooler full of beer.  The each held a bottle of locally brewed ale and sat in lawn chairs next to Martin and Heather forming a semi-circle.
         “That may be so, Jean,” Sonny said as the others continued to chuckle.  Maria leaned forward trying to pay attention and catch up on the conversation she was missing.
Sonny continued.  “But this is the day we celebrate the birth of the United States.”
         “The birth of a war mongering nation,” Jean replied.  There was no mistaking the bitterness on her tongue as she spat the words.  “What’s worse is that we ignore our ignorance and refuse to grow.  Arrogance and ignorance is a disastrous combination for leadership, yet we continue to elect these kinds of leaders.”
         “Oh, come on now, Jean,” Sonny pleaded.  “This is a beautiful country and we have our freedom.  It’s a lot better than many other places.”
         “That’s not my point,” Jean countered.  “Since the Pequot War in 1637 this country has averaged a war every seven years.  The longest stretch of peace we’ve ever had was after the War with China in 1900 until World War One in 1917.”
         “What can I say Jean?” Sonny grinned.  “The French may make the best wine, the Germans may make the best beer, the Italians may make the best food, but we make the best bombs.”
         “Hey man,” Martin interrupted.  “I make the best food.”
         “Whatever,” Jean rolled her eyes.  “Look, we all know the truth is that these kinds of conflicts and wars happen because men are trying to compensate for their undersized genitalia.”
         “What do you mean by that?” Sonny retorted.
         “It means you and the mayor are little pricks,” Melissa jabbed with a grin and quickly took a sip of wine.
         The others burst into stunned laughter.  Even Sonny chuckled.  Still, through the laughter, Maria could sense an undertow of tension building.  She was not certain these barbs between Melissa and Sonny were good natured fun.
         “All right you guys,” Dipak said with an air of frustration or wear.  “Let’s leave it alone.  We’re here to have a good time together.”
         Maria was in total agreement.  The last thing she wanted to see that day was another round of infighting between Melissa and Sonny.  She closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair, her broad nostrils opened wide catching the lake breeze.  Barely audible distant church bells signaled the final service had finished.  This familiar sound reminded her of home.  A bittersweet smile stretched across her lips and she began to relax again with a deep breath.


                                       






                                                           



                                                           











                                                 Chapter 14

The church bells chimed deafeningly as Father Brick stood at the bottom of the stairs shaking hands and making small talk with the parishioners as they made their way in peace from the services.  Father Paul had not realized how saturated with sweat his forehead was until he saw most of his congregation had been sweating profusely in the un-air conditioned church.  Still, he smiled and made an effort to greet each and every one.
         The last parishioner out was Philip DeMaster.  He smiled in the oppressive midday air, refusing to loosen his tie until he arrived home.  Philip stood on top of the stairs for a moment looking down on the town’s people as they passed by Father Paul, sharing brief words as they passed.  Philip slowly descended the stairs as the crowd thinned, letting the others have their turn before taking his turn to speak with the Father.
         “Wonderful sermon, Father.  Inspiring as always.  Luke 6.29 has always been one of my favorites.”
         Father Brick shook Philip’s hand cautiously.  “Is this the same man who is planning a town meeting for Wednesday night?”
         “Oh, yes,” Philip was unaware of his own hypocrisy.  “Thank you again for announcing the meeting.  Because of you, Father, the message will be heard.”
         Now regretting having agreed to assist Philip, Father Paul began to feel guilt and shame trickle through.  In attempting to assist the town’s mayor, and a friend of many years, he now felt as if he should be the one to step into the confessional to have his sins purged.
         “You know, Philip, the passage ‘If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other side also,’ has been stated also as ‘If anyone should give you a blow with his hand, with a stick, or with a knife, you should abandon any desire and utter no evil words’”
         Philip’s brow wrinkled.  Father Paul could feel him thinking.  “I’m sorry Father; I don’t recall that verse of the Bible.”
         “It is from Majjhima Nikaya 21.6, the words of Buddha.”
         Philip’s eyes bulged in disbelief of the good Father quoting Buddhist teachings on the steps of the church. 
         Recognizing the perceived offense, Father Paul rolled his eyes slightly and placed his hand on Philip’s shoulder.  “Its okay, Philip.  Jesus was not the only wise man God put on this earth.  In fact, that Jesus’ and Buddha’s teachings are parallel in many ways only further validates their wisdom and the all encompassing Word of God.  But what is important for us is that we understand their messages and work to incorporate them into our daily lives.  Philip,” Father Paul looked at him seriously.  “I want you to give today’s sermon serious thought before you address the town on Wednesday.”
         “I will Father,” Philip replied looking at the ground.
         “I’m serious, Philip.  Promise me you will consider this.  For not turning the other cheek also holds consequence.”
The echo of firecrackers rushed up the street.  Both men were startled by the noise.  Philip chuckled.  “I promise Father.”

Chapter 15


         The last of the sun torched the horizon with a fire line of white separating the darkened earth from the darkened sky.  Stars were peaking down as the band of artists moved single file over giant slabs of limestone that rose out of the lake.  They moved out in the dark along the flat limestone as far as they could and spread out some blankets.  Martin and Dipak had carried the cooler and made certain everyone had a fresh beverage for the show.  The party had been moved from the beach by the compound to Jean’s house.  It had been decided that everyone had drunk and or smoked enough that it would be foolish to risk driving into Holly’s Harbor.  Instead, they worked their way on to the stone laid out before Jean’s house which would allow them an unobstructed, though a bit distant, view of the fireworks from Holly’s Harbor.
         Maria was glad they chose this route.  Though she would have liked to have seen the tourist town of Holly’s Harbor, she knew that was a day trip she would be better off taking by herself when she would have time to explore what she wanted at her own pace and without any other agenda.  Also, she understood that the fireworks display would be crowded with tourists and she was not in the mind frame to deal with a large, sweaty crowd.
         At first Sonny had insisted on driving.  He argued the fireworks just weren’t the same unless you’re right under them so the concussion rattled your fillings and debris rained down on you.  Maria agreed, but kept silent.  It did not take too much convincing from the others to move the party to Jean’s and watch the fireworks there.
                   Maria looked out over the water.  She could not tell where the dark sky and the dark water met on the horizon.  It was as if space had swept down in liquid form and corralled them on the rocks.  She looked at the constellations, marveling at how different they were from what she was used to in her native land.  A sudden glitter caught the corner of her eye.  As she turned back to the first bright white explosion dripping shaggy tendrils to the ground, the soft low pop echoed out to them.
         The group collectively cheered as more ordnance infiltrated the sky, bursting in colors.  Maria noticed the fireworks were reflecting on top of the dark calm waters of the bay, adding another dimension to the display.  She imagined being in space seeing stars and nebulae up close as the clusters of fireworks burst brilliantly in their own brief, multi-colored constellations.
         “These seats are fantastic, Jean,” Heather said with a wide smile.  “Do you do this every year?”
         “Most every year.  The thing I love most about it is that there is no crowd to deal with.”
         Suddenly a series of yellow fireworks burst across the night sky as if painting the black canvas with a field of ripe dandelions.
         “I like that one,” Sonny said with a grin.
         Melissa gave Maria a gentle nudge and rolled her eyes.  Maria was surprised and relieved that Melissa did not respond further.
         The group ooed and ahhed collectively with a slight tone of sarcasm as the fireworks continued to burst through the sky.  Maria’s thoughts turned back toward making a day trip into Holly’s Harbor.  She took a sip of her beer and quietly decided to go the next day.  Maria knew she needed directions and transportation, and contemplated her situation.  She wanted to go by herself, however, and did not want to have to explain why.  She did not even understand why she felt she needed to go alone.  Also, she did not want to risk some confrontation and possibly offend someone by refusing their company.  As the fireworks continued to light up the sky, Maria began to see the futility of being fearful of having to explain herself.  Besides, she might feel different about having company tomorrow.  Eventually, she concluded it was not so much a desire to be alone as it was her dislike for having to be so dependent on everyone else.
         Outside of her painting, she had been reliant on the others for food, fun, transportation, everything.  With this realization Maria suddenly felt small and angry. 
She had never been so dependent upon others before.  Outside of her family she had never associated herself with a group so tightly bound as this group of artists she was currently living with.  In fact, she always strode to avoid such cliquish groups as she considered them to be stifling for personal growth and development.  Furthermore, the isolation from the rest of the world did not help this situation.  Certainly the compound Sonny had developed was a wonderful place for working, but with the consequential isolation from the world, Maria was beginning to become a bit stir crazy.
         Her new found anger with her situation and herself for not having done anything to change it bred a new sense of resolve.  Maria was now more determined to visit Holly’s Harbor the next day.  She would not say anything to anyone about it.  She would find her own solution.  A wave of relief washed through her as she now understood why she felt so fearful, melancholy and timid.  She also knew what needed to be done to correct it.  Maria sighed and smiled again as giant luminous bursts erupted over the bay in a sudden flurry of finality.
         “Sweet,” Sonny stated emphatically.  He took the last sips of his beer and stood up, swaying slightly for a moment.  “So, who’s up for a midnight swim?”  He wriggled out of his shirt and then sat down again to work at getting his shoes off.
         “Oh, I don’t think so,” Melissa replied.  She stood up and stretched.  “I think I’m going to head back.  It’s been a long day.”
         Maria enjoyed skinny dipping, but layers of modesty and sheer fear of swimming at night prevented her from having any desire to engage in group nudity.  She was greatly relieved to see she was not the only one who opted out.
         “I had better go too,” Maria stated, following Melissa’s lead.  “I have a busy day tomorrow.”  She stood to say good night and discovered Jean unbuttoning her blouse.  “Jean?”
         “Are you girls sure you don’t want to hop in for a quick splash?  It’s very refreshing,” Jean said with a sly grin.          
         “I can’t believe you’re going with him,” Melissa nearly laughed.
         “Why not?  I go for a swim most every day.  Besides, it’s dark enough to obscure the consequences of my years.  And, how often do I get to be naked in the water with a man nearly half my age?”
         “Oh, too much,” Melissa was wide-eyed and chuckling.
         Martin picked up Heather, they were both still in their swimwear from earlier that day, causing her to squeal with delight.  He walked steadily over to the edge of the limestone, securely holding the tiny girl in his arms as she protested with great amusement in her voice.  Heather was mid sentence when Martin stepped off the edge landing both of them in the cool dark water with a tremendous splash.
         Maria could see the silhouettes of the two side by side in the water laughing.  The water’s depth covered Heather’s chest, but was well below Martin’s.  Maria and Melissa began walking back.
         “Hey, wait up.”
         They turned to see Dipak hurrying toward them with two bottles of beer in each hand.
         “It’s not quite my scene either,” he said with a smile as he reached the girls.
         Just as Maria was turning to start back again, she saw the dark form of Sonny finally stepping out of his shorts and jumping bare assed into the lake.  As the three of them reached the shore they heard another splash announce that Jean had entered the water.
         Back on the beach again, Maria stepped out of her sandals to let her toes squish through the cool sand as they went.  She marveled again at the vast night sky as waves rushed the lake’s ebb and flow against the shore.  Maria also noticed the thick tree line that stopped at the beach.  It seemed even darker than the night sky.  It was black and foreboding, and made her feel a bit uneasy, as if she were looking at a giant mausoleum.  She startled when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flame burst.  Maria snapped her head to find the blinding yellow light burning the tip of Melissa’s cigarette, leaving a red glow.
         “I can’t believe those guys,” Melissa began with amusement in her voice.  “Well, actually I believe Sonny would do that.  But Jean, now that was surprising.”
         “Good for her I say,” Dipak interjected.  “I like Jean.  I mean, I really think she’s a neat lady.  If she wants to get naked with other people and swim around I’m okay with
that.  Maybe she’ll even get a little action from Sonny.”
         “Eeww!”  Maria gasped as an image of Sonny’s fish belly white ass flashed in her mind.  “That gave me a visual I didn’t need.”
         “No doubt,” Melissa concurred. 
         “You’re the one I’m surprised with, Maria,” Dipak stated earnestly.  “You’re an artist, a painter.  I figured you would be the one comfortable with nudity more than any of us.”
         Maria considered this for a moment.  It was true, at least it seemed as though she should be more comfortable with nudity since she had seen numerous nude models in drawing and painting classes.
         “I don’t know,” she began.  “I like to be naked, but I don’t feel comfortable naked around others.  I could never model nude for anyone.  In class when we would have a nude model to draw or paint it was different.  I didn’t know the person for one.  Another thing is that it was business.  For me it was never about seeing a nude, it was about capturing an essence on canvas or paper.”  She thought for a moment.  “I don’t know, it’s just different.” 
         “Oh yeah, I never thought about that,” Melissa said.  “I bet you’ve seen a lot of naked people.”
         “I don’t know that I’ve seen a lot, but I’ve seen enough.”
         “What about you, Dipak?” Melissa asked.  “Why aren’t you swimming?”
         “It’s just not my scene, the whole group nudity thing.  I could be naked with a girl, or by myself, but when you start throwing other guys into the mix I’m just not comfortable.”
         “What about you?” he asked Melissa.
         “I’m just too tired,” Melissa replied and took a drag of her cigarette.  “If my bed weren’t calling me I’d of gone.”
         They turned up the path to the compound, leaving the beach behind them.  Maria paused to put her sandals back on while Melissa and Dipak waited for her.
         “If I wanted to go to Holly’s Harbor tomorrow what would be the best way to go?”  Maria asked discretely.
         Dipak sensed her desire for discretion and did not inquire of her business.  “Just take one of the bikes from the garage,” he replied.  “There’s a path just down from my studio that leads to a nice wide hiking and biking trail that begins at Voskuil Park and loops around the bay.  It’s pretty easy, not a difficult ride at all.”
         “The trail is just past your studio?”
         “Yeah, you can’t miss it.”
         “What are you doing there?” Melissa asked.
         Maria felt a bit self conscious and selfish hoping Melissa would not ask to come along.  Maria really wanted to do some exploring on her own.  She quickly resolved to tell Melissa she needed to go by herself if Melissa asked.
         “I’m just going to go hang out and see what’s there.”
         “You’ll like it,” Melissa stated.  “It’s a cute town.  Not a whole lot to it, but its pretty.”
         They passed through the creaking screen door and into the dark home.  Dipak turned on the kitchen light.  The brightness of the light was stunning for several moments as the three of them moved into the living room blinking and squinting.  Melissa made her way to the couch and sat.  Dipak continued standing, still holding the beers.
         “Good night,” Maria offered.  “Thanks for a wonderful day.  I really had fun.”
         “Are you sure you don’t want a night cap?” Dipak asked, holding up a beer.
         “No, thank you.  I’m really tired.”
         “Have a good night,” Melissa said.
         Maria passed through the painfully bright light of the kitchen into the hallway.  As her sandals pressed upon the wooden floor an occasional squeak groaned in the dark corridor.  She could hear Dipak and Melissa echoing softly as she entered her room.  She silenced them by shutting the door.
         Navigating her way through the darkness, Maria moved along side her bed to a small table.  She turned on a tiny lamp which dimly lit her quarters with a soft yellow light.  After setting her alarm for six o’clock, she stripped naked and climbed between the white sheets.  She turned off the light and was quickly overcome by sleep.
                                                           









                                                        Chapter 16


         Red tail lights burned before Philip as he sat in the driver’s seat of his Chevy Lumina, quietly fuming.  Every year he repeated the same action.  He and his wife would come to Holly’s Harbor for the fireworks display and afterwards they would be stalled in a line of traffic trying to leave town.  Philip knew what he was getting himself into, and he promised himself again this year that he would practice patience and not get angry.  And once again, just like all the previous years, he found himself reneging on that promise as his frustration grew to seething anger.
         “It was a lovely display tonight, don’t you think?” Elizabeth asked.  “By far the best one yet.”
         Philip turned to her looking at her profile in the warm glow of the dash board lights.  “Yes,” he concurred.  “I would love to be able to put on such a display in Liberty.  But, we just don’t have the resources.  And there is no way we could compete with a display like theirs.  We would just be another town with a cute little show.  Hardly what out-of-towners want to see.”
         “Philip, it’s the Fourth of July.  It’s a celebration not a competition.”
         “I know, I know.”  He sighed in frustration as they slowly crept forward for a few seconds before coming to a stop again.  “But it just doesn’t seem like spending money on something like that would be prudent.  It would cost the town a lot of money and we wouldn’t draw enough people to make it worth while.”  He looked over at his wife who was now staring out the passenger window.  “I just wish I could think of something, something unique to draw crowds to the town.  We need some kind of festival or something.  I don’t know.”  A surge of anger fueled by frustrations of the traffic and the town’s dismal tourism pushed through him.  “Come on,” Philip said forcefully as he laid on the horn for a few seconds.
         “Please, Philip, that’s not going to help.”
         “I know.  I know.”
         “Then just relax dear.  There’s nothing to get so worked up about,” Elizabeth reminded him.  “If it will help, I can drive.”
         “No, that won’t be necessary.”
         Philip sighed and silence ensued.  Elizabeth turned on the radio, flooding the interior of the car with John Phillips Sousa’s ‘Stars and Stripes Forever’ as performed by the Boston Symphony Orchestra.
         “You know, Philip,” she began softly.  “Liberty has survived worse hardships than a temporary lack of tourism.  It’s a small town without much to offer anyone except for those who chose to live there.  It has beautiful scenery and an interesting history.  It may not have grown like the other towns, but that is also some of its charm.”  She smiled and gently patted him on the thigh.  “Besides, if we had fireworks like this in Liberty we would be sitting in traffic there instead of here.”
         “Well, we wouldn’t,” Philip retorted.  “We would be able to walk to and from the display.”  Philip realized he offended her as she instantly pulled her hand away once he uttered those words.  “I’m sorry, dear.  I know what you’re saying, and you’re right.  But, I can’t help but want to see our town grow and thrive, not just survive.  I don’t want to turn it into a condo-laden timeshare attraction that so many of the towns up here have become.  I would just like to see it prosper a little more, that’s all.”
         The traffic began to slowly inch forward again.  This time, however, they did not stop.  The traffic continued to increase in speed to a steady crawl.
         “Aha!  See my dear,” Philip exclaimed happily.  “Everything is going to be fine.”
         “I know, Philip.  I know.”
         They fell silent, listening to the symphony while they followed the long parade of traffic slowly, but steadily streaming out of town.




                                       





























                                                           



    Chapter 17


         Maria awoke to ‘Largo e Maestoso’ by Nicolai Rimsky-Korsakov.  Morning sun streamed through the sheer white curtains which danced gracefully upon a warm gentle breeze above her bed.  She felt as if she could use another hour or two of sleep, but the anticipation of her trip would not allow her any further rest.  She laid in bed for several minutes listening to the orchestra and pondered what the day might have in store for her.  Finally she turned off the radio and put on the shorts and t-shirt she left on the floor the night before.  After gathering a change of clothes and a fresh towel, Maria went to the bathroom to shower.
         Returning to her room, Maria combed her long, wet hair back into a ponytail.  She then pulled a small back pack from under her bed.  She packed another blouse in the bag and dropped her wallet in as well.  Convinced she needed nothing else; she shut her door and made her way down the hall.  The house seemed strangely quiescent at that time of day.  The muffled snoring from behind the door to Sonny’s room was the only indication that anyone else was in the house.
         In the kitchen, Maria heated up a cup of coffee left over from the day before.  As it warmed in the microwave she rummaged through the refrigerator to find a container of strawberry yogurt and took one of the bananas ripening on top of the refrigerator.  She sat at the counter, getting up only for her coffee when it was ready.  Happy memories of her family accompanied her as she ate breakfast in quiet solitude.
         After she had finished eating and had drank three quarters of her coffee, Maria loaded two bottles of water and an apple in her pack and threw one strap over her shoulder.  She put on her sunglasses and walked out the front door down the dirt driveway to the garage.  She had not been in the garage since the day she arrived.  A subtle sense of trespassing crept through her as she cautiously entered.  Dust covered cobwebs hung in the corners and from the rafters.  Bright rays of morning light beamed through the east windows illuminating particles of dust suspended in the air as Maria self-consciously moved as quickly and quietly as possible as if afraid of being caught.  She walked around Sonny’s station wagon to a corner containing a collection of bikes.  After a few minutes of inspecting the various styles, she found an old three-speed which was maroon in color and had gold letters which read Bay Pointe on the frame.  It seemed in good repair and an appropriate size.
         Maria walked the bike out of the garage and down past the studios.  There, just as Dipak had informed her, was a narrow trail head leading into the thick, lush forest.  She stood reluctantly as she realized it had been years since she had ridden a bike.  Also, she was uncertain this particular bike was a good choice for this trail.  A mosquito buzzing in her ear gave her the final encouragement she needed to dash any timidity about continuing on her way.  Maria swung her leg over the frame and perched herself on the seat.  She pushed off and found the pedals.  Initially she struggled with her balance a little, but it only took a couple rotations of the gears before it all came back to her.  Picking up a bit of speed she entered the forest on the dirt path.
The handle bars shook violently as she navigated along the bumpy dirt trail.  She slowed a bit and quickly reached up to remove her sunglasses.  The canopy of the trees had blocked out the bright sunlight leaving only dappled light to illuminate the woods.  The trail narrowed at times, so that foliage would brush against her bare legs.  The fenders of the bike clattered noisily to every bump she encountered.  She realized then that she would most likely be sitting gingerly for the next couple of days if this ride continued as it was for much longer.
         Maria continued forward following the pitch of the path.  She could feel the burn in her thighs with every depression of the pedals.  Beads of sweat that had collected on her forehead now dripped and jumped down her face.  Her lungs sucked air quickly in and out of her mouth and she could hear her heart pounding in her ears.  Just when she was about to stop to rest for a few minutes the path emptied out on to a flat, wide paved bike path.
         Maria stopped pedaling and let the bike drift forward with momentum.  She passed a sign signaling she was entering Bailey’s Park.  Taking several deep slow breaths she felt her body recovering from the exertion and promised herself to let Dipak know about it, not difficult at all, indeed. 
                   As she continued toward town she encountered an increasing volume of bikes and pedestrian traffic.  Though it was early, the tourists seemed to be making the most of the day.  The canopy of forest on her left eventually gave way as the path merged along side a highway near the village entrance.  Shortly after the remainder of the forest on her right dispersed to sporadic clusters of trees, allowing her a view of the white sand beach about a hundred meters off, nestled against the cool, calm shore of the bay.  At the center was a small harbor where slips and moorings held various sized sailboats.  The beach seemed to stretch the length of the village.  To her surprise there were only a few people out on morning strolls along the shore.           
         Sliding her sunglasses back on, she smiled as a sense of relief and satisfaction washed through her.  She turned her attention forward and could see the road through the village was lined on both sides with shops, restaurants and inns.  The village itself was well maintained and held a quaint and cozy aura about it.
         Maria stopped at the exit of the park to the village when she found a bike rack half full and unattended.  She swung off the bike and parked it along side the others.  Her legs felt weak and walking felt awkward for the first few strides after her ride.  As she meandered along the sidewalk in the bright morning sun Maria realized this picturesque village was almost exactly the image that came to her mind when someone mentioned Door County.
         Taking her time to look through the window displays of various shops, Maria eventually came to a small café.  Once again having the taste for coffee she entered the crowded shop and took her place in line.  The café reminded her of the café back in Liberty.  So much so in fact, she wondered which café opened first so the other could copy.  The only difference was the café in Liberty, though it did a good business, was never this crowded.  At least not that Maria had ever seen.
         Once she had received her latte and paid, she resumed her stroll through the village of Holly’s Harbor.  Across the street, about half way down the block, she noticed a billboard to a theatre advertising showings of ‘The Dukes of Hazzard’.  She sighed longingly as she wanted to go to the movies but had no desire to see that particular film.  At least she now knew where a theatre existed.
         A few doors down she came to a shop named ‘The Gull’s Breath Gallery’.  Maria paused before the window, slowly sipping her latte, examining the jewelry, pottery and wood carvings of ducks and loons in the display.  From the tags on the items Maria learned that all of these items were produced by local artists.  A professional curiosity moved her through the front door of the gallery.
         Inside she found a smattering of shoppers evenly dispersed throughout the neatly organized and well kept shop.  As she suspected from what she saw in the window display, the quality of the art work in the shop was quite good, even though there was nothing Maria saw that she herself would care to own.  This was a market she could not quite understand.  Most everything in the store had a theme about ducks, loons, or the local light house.  Further, a good deal of the items there had “Holly’s Harbor” labeled on them.  Maria understood why this technique of crass commercialism was employed, but did not agree with it because she felt it devalued and trivialized the work.
         “Maria,” a voice from her past echoed behind her.  She stared, lost in a painting of a pair of mallards swimming through cattails.  She sipped her latte as the voice did not collect her full attention.  Maria knew she could make paintings like this to pay the rent if need be, but hoped it never came down to that.  There was no dishonor in painting for this market despite the opinions of many of her peers, but it held a sense of imprisonment to her.
         Maria turned to her left when she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder.
         “Hey, Maria,” a smiling young man with curly blonde hair and dancing blue eyes greeted her.
         After a moment of surprise and confusion Maria cleared and recognition took over.          
         “Danny?”  She replied.  “Oh my God, Danny!  What are you doing here?”
         “I work here,” he chuckled.  “At least through the summer.  What about you?  What are you doing here?”
         “I’m just sight seeing.  I’ve never been here before.”
         “Are you still in Green Bay?  I thought you would have gone home for the summer.”
         “Normally, yes.  But this summer I’m staying with Sonny at his place just a little ways from here.”
         The wide grin on Danny’s face reduced quickly.  “Sonny Ludwig?”
         “Yes,” Maria nodded and took a sip of her latte.  “There’s a group of us staying with him over the summer.  He’s given us studio space and is letting us live there in exchange for helping him open his gallery.”
         “No kidding,” a wondrous grin stretched across Danny’s face.  “That’s fantastic.  I had no idea he was up here.”
         “Heather is up here too.”
         “Heather Vu?”
Maria nodded with a chuckle.
         “Holy cow!”
         “Well, what’s going on with you?” Maria asked.  “My God, I haven’t seen you in like a year or something.”
         Danny took a deep breath and glanced over at the checkout to make certain no one needed waiting on before he began.  “Well, a couple of months ago I sold the gallery.”
         “No,” Maria gasped.  “I had no idea.  No one said anything.”
         “Well, its still there.  An investor from Chicago wanted it and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.  So, I came up here on a lark and found this store available.  I know a lot of people throughout the state, artists and the like, and I figured I would try to run a store selling their goods.”
         “What about the gallery?  Will it stay open?”
         “Yeah, I think so.”  Although I don’t know for sure what kind of shows he would have.”
         “That’s too bad,” Maria lamented.  “You gave all of us such a boost.  Heather, Sonny and I all had our first shows at your gallery.  If it weren’t for you we’d all still be completely unknown.”
         “Oh, that’s not true.”  Danny looked away as his ears and cheeks began to turn the slightest shade of pink.  “Your work was too good to go unnoticed.  If I hadn’t done it          
someone else would’ve.”
         They looked at one another through a momentary lull in conversation.
         “Tell me more about this place,” Maria encouraged.
         “Well, it’s all local artists and such.  I sell their work on consignment.”  Danny pulled a business card from his shirt pocket.  “Here, take this.  Call me anytime you guys want to get together, or if you want to put some work in here.”
         Maria studied the card.  It was plain light blue with black lettering simply listing the business name, his name and his phone number.
         “That sounds great,” Maria replied.  “I know a couple of folks are having problems with storage space.  Heather has made so much she’s started to put some things in my studio.”
         “When does Sonny plan to open the gallery?”
         “Labor Day weekend.”
         “That’s a ways off yet.”  Danny began to move toward the counter to greet a customer at checkout.  “Give me a call and we’ll sell some things here in the meantime.”
         “Okay, I’ll let Sonny know,” Maria replied.
         She stayed a few minutes longer, lingering amid the jewelry, wood carvings and paintings of the lighthouse.  Maria was not certain their work would fit the theme Danny currently had in his shop.  However, she also knew their work would not be completely inappropriate either.  There would always be something they could bring in.
         A short line had formed at the counter.  Maria waved to Danny.
         “Good to see you again, Maria,” he said loudly.
“You too.  We’ll give you a call.”
         “Yah, real good then.”
         Danny returned his attention to his customers as Maria smiled and exited the shop.  An excitement trickled through her as she again glanced at his card before putting it in her front pocket.  Maria imagined the expression on Sonny’s and Heather’s faces when she would tell them of her discovery.  She was also reservedly excited to have found a place where she could display some of her work.
         Large white clouds drifted across the bright blue mid-morning sky as Maria          
continued along with the window shopping tourists.  It did not take her long before she had finished walking one side of the street.  Maria looked over to the other side of the street teaming with tourists and suspected that there was nothing there that would be much different than what she had just seen.  She noticed a walkway which led around to the other side of the building and down to the beach.  She strolled casually down to the sandy shore and took off her tennis shoes.  A short distance further, she was able to find an isolated spot, far enough from families and loud frolicking children, where she was able to sit and enjoy the view.  Maria pulled her apple and water from her bag.  She bit into the juicy, sweet meat of the apple, savoring its robust flavor as she reflected on her summer.
         Maria felt blessed to have been given the opportunity to stay with Sonny and the others and participate in the construction of the gallery.  She knew Sonny could get distracted at times and deviate from a planned course, but now that she had found Danny she was more confident than ever that staying in America for the summer was a sound decision.  Even if the gallery did not open on time Maria now had a place to try to sell her work.  Though she missed her family terribly, she felt a certain satisfaction in knowing all seemed to be working out for the best.


                                                  







                                                                               

                   
                                                           





                                                           












                                                           
    Chapter 18


         Sonny turned off his welding torch and raised his visor to inspect his work.  Satisfied with his accomplishment of having set the last ribs he took off the visor and wiped sweat from his face with his sweat soaked shirt.  He stepped back and picked his bottle of beer up from the floor.  It was warm now, it had been for a while, yet he continued to sip at it anyway.  A sigh of relief triggered a broad smile as he slowly circled his brass ‘Skeleton of the Statue of David’.  It had taken him a month to complete.  Every bone in the human body was represented by an individual casting of brass.
         He rolled back the heavy eight foot tall bay door exposing the interior of his studio to a view of the house.  Sonny’s studio was the only one with doors such as this.  It was necessary he have them due to the scale of some of his creations.  Taking the last mouthful of warm beer he set the empty bottle in with a pile of others next to the small refrigerator.  He belched and removed a cold beer from the refrigerator and took a long steady drink. 
         Dipak entered through the open bay carrying a plastic milk crate full of neatly stacked papers of assorted bright colors.  He set the crate down and stood next to Sonny, examining the statue.
         “That’s pretty sweet, man,” Dipak offered.
         “Thanks.  I’ve wanted to do this one for a while.”  Sonny looked over at the milk crate.  “What’s that?”
         “I finished the fliers for the opening.  I printed up a thousand.  I know we probably won’t use that many, but we could try.”  Dipak walked over to the refrigerator and helped himself to a beer.
         “Well, that’s good actually,” Sonny said pointing to the brass statue.  “Now that I have this one done I’ve got enough for the opening.  I really don’t have to do anything else but finish up the gallery.  We should probably go out later this week and start putting the flyers up.”
         “Where do you want to start?”
         “Let’s put a couple hundred up in Green Bay.  Then we’ll canvas the county and eventually start working our way down to Manitowoc and Milwaukee.”
         “That’s gonna take some time.”  There was a hint of concern in Dipak’s voice.  “Are you sure we can do all of that in our time frame?”
         “I don’t see why not, especially if we’re not slacking off.”
         Suddenly Maria skidded to a stop in front of the opening on her bike.  A short plume of dust drifted past her legs.  She slowly got off the bike and gently laid it on the ground.  She straightened up with a grimace and walked gingerly toward Sonny and Dipak.          
         “My ass is going to be so sore tomorrow, oh my God.”  Maria announced forcing a chuckle from Sonny and Dipak.
         “So how was it?” Dipak asked.  “Any problem finding it?”
         “No,” Maria replied.  “But that ride through the woods was a bit more difficult that you led me to believe.
“Sorry about that,” Dipak grinned.
         “Yeah, whatever.”
         “So where did you go?” Sonny asked.
         “I spent the day in Holly’s Harbor.”  Maria’s eyebrows raised in anticipation.  She had been waiting to tell Sonny about finding Danny ever since she discovered he was now in Holly’s Harbor.  “You won’t believe who I saw there.”
         A moment of silence ensued as a mischievous grin played across Maria’s face.  Sonny was not at all impressed.  He looked at Dipak and shrugged.
         “I don’t know, who?” Sonny finally asked.          
         “Danny Schroeder,” Maria said hardly able to conceal her excitement.
         Sonny’s eyes widened.  “No shit?  What was he doing there?”
         “He owns a store there.  He sells local artists’ work.”
         “What?  No way.”  Sonny glanced at Dipak.
         “It’s true,” Maria confirmed.  He told me he sold the gallery in Green Bay.”  Maria pulled the business card Danny gave her from her pocket.  It was crinkled and warm and damp from her sweat.  She handed it to Sonny.  “He said we should call him.”
         Sonny held the card, staring at it silently for a moment.  “Yeah, yeah, we’ll do that.”  He turned to Dipak.  “You probably don’t know this but Danny owned….”
         “The ‘Bayside Gallery’,” Dipak finished Sonny’s sentence.  “He sold it last May to some rich dude from Chicago.  He opened up his shop in Holly’s Harbor in June.”
         Sonny stared at Dipak with his mouth slightly agape and brow wrinkled.  “How do you know this?”  Sonny asked incredulously.  “You always know stuff.”
         Dipak shrugged.  “I get around, man.  I know the score.”
         Sonny shook his head and smiled.  “Well he was also instrumental in helping me and Heather and Maria to get where we are today.  He gave us a lot of exposure when we were first starting.”  He turned back to Maria.  “I’ll give him a call.  He could probably help us get some more exposure for the opening.”
         Maria noticed the skeleton sculpture in the center of the room.  “What’s this?”
         “What do you think of it?” Sonny asked earnestly.
         Maria slowly circled the brass sculpture noting the intricate play of interconnecting “bones” sealed together with scars from the torch.  It definitely had an inhuman characteristic about it, almost robotic in a way.  She stopped in front of the sculpture and peered in the deep dark sockets of the skull, then slowly let her eyes trace the form all the way down to its toes.  Maria finally turned to Sonny.  “This is very impressive.”  Then she shot him a teasing grin.  “But, it’s missing my favorite part of the original.”



                                       




                                                           



                                                   Chapter 19


         The meeting room of the town hall was packed full of concerned citizens.  Phillip looked on in amazement from the back of the room.  The turnout of villagers far exceeded any meeting he has held before and surpassed his expectations for this meeting.  He took a deep breath and relaxed a bit as he reassured himself the content of his speech was would motivate and unite the audience.
         Phillip shut the doors behind the last few stragglers who hurried in  and maneuvered through the rows to find the last few empty chairs.  Phillip walked comfortably to the podium in front.  His audience continued the low murmurs as people chatted back and forth.  He waited for a few moments for the crowd to recognize he was ready to begin, but no one seemed to notice him.  Frustration quickly mounted in Philip.  He grabbed the wooden gavel and struck the podium three times calling the meeting to order.  Still, no one seemed to listen.
         “People, people please!” he shouted.  The crowd began to hush.  “I am calling this meeting to order!”  Philip looked out over the crowd.  Nearly the entire town was there.  A sense of pride trickled through him as he thought, ‘These good people have chosen me to lead them.  I know these people to be the best in the world.  I mustn’t fail them.’
         He gulped and began.  “Fellow citizens of Liberty, welcome.  And I thank you all for coming.  I would like to thank everyone for all their hard work in pulling together so we may move forward.
         “This summer, as you know, the tourism has been slow.  And I have come upon a plan to improve the tourism this year and into the future.  My main goal for this plan is to maintain the financial security for this town.  And if you are not working together with us for this then you obviously stand against us.”
         A rotund man a few chins deep in the neck, with curly brown hair graying on the sides was sitting right in front of the podium.  He nudged another large man to his right.  “I knew it, eh,” he said in a normal speaking voice and gave a glancing point at Philip. 
“Just listen to this horseshit here.”
         “Mr. Neffets!”  Philip scolded.  “Please do not interrupt me.  Everyone will have a          chance to voice his opinion after my opening remarks.  And please watch your language.  This is the town hall, not the back room of your tavern.”
         Neffets shook his head and casually waved off DeMaster.
         “As I was saying,” DeMaster continued, “you are either with us or against us.  We are working toward the security of this town, financially and otherwise and it’s not necessarily going to be easy.  This is hard work!”  He struck the podium with an open palm emphasizing the last four words.
         A distressed hush fell over Philip’s audience.  All eyes were on him as he paused.  Pulling in as much air as he could, he expanded his chest slowly letting it deflate as he leashed his emotions before they ran rampant before the crowd.
         “Now,” he continued, “there is a small group on the fringe of this town which continually disregards ordinances of this town.  Further, they have repeatedly attacked us and are undermining our tourism industry.  I have learned first hand that their efforts have indeed had a negative impact on this town.  This group continuously thwarts my efforts to bring them to justice.  You all know who I’m talking about.  This group repeatedly stated they do not have to obey the town ordinances because they reside outside of the limits, but they are a part of this town.  However, if they do not want to be a part of this town, we can help them with that.  I am hereby ordering an embargo of all trade with that group.”
         A loud murmur erupted through the crowd.  Philip took a step back to collect himself again before he pressed on.  Before he could continue Wayne Neffets stood and shouted over the dull roar of the audience.
         “Let me get this straight here, Phil.”  The crowd fell silent again.  “You want me to refuse service to these kids?  These are good kids and they provide me with a decent amount of business.  Things have been slow this year, but it ain’t their fault.  And you expect me to cut them off just because they let dandelions grow in their yard?”  He turned to the crowd waving his arms and shaking his head in disgust.  “Unbelievable chain of events!”
         “Mr. Neffets,” Philip countered.  “These are not the innocents you claim.  They do not abide by laws and are a morally casual group who indulge frequently in earthly delights.”
         “They’re probably having wild sex orgies over there,” a woman in the crowd shouted.
         “Holy Christ, Norb,” Neffets turned to his friend.  “Maybe we should go check it out.”
         Mixed laughter and protest ejaculated through the congregation. 
         Neffets began shouting at DeMaster again silencing the crowd. 
         “Now see here,” Neffets demanded.  “This is wrong on so many levels I’m having trouble deciding where to begin.  At the very least, as a small business owner, I retain the right to refuse service to anyone.  But, I won’t refuse service because it’s bad for business.”  Neffets turned and looked out over the crowd.  “If these kids come into my tavern, they’re getting whatever they want.  Hell, they might even get it on the house.”
         Again laughter and protest erupted through the crowd.  Philip sensed he was losing control of the meeting.  Anger at Neffets and the others who defied him swelled in Philip quickly shading his cheeks and forehead a bright red.
         “This is no joking matter!” Philip shouted, spraying white chunks of spit from the corners of his mouth.  “We must stand united during this dark time.  We must see this embargo through, for the sake of this town and its residents.  Anyone who does not participate with the embargo will be fined.  If they continue to defy the town and the authority bestowed on me they will also have the embargo placed against them.  We can do this together.”  Philip stared daggers through Wayne Neffets who stood defiantly before the podium with his arms crossed.  “It is either my way or the highway,” Philip concluded.
         “Yeah, I knew I could count on you to take the low road, Philip,” Neffets responded in a robust voice.  Knowing he had gotten the last word he turned to his friend and the two exited as the echo of division resonated through the crowd.

                                                           



                                                  Chapter 20


         Maria followed in line behind Martin and Heather as they rode their bikes casually down Main Street of Liberty.  It was a typically quiet Friday in town.  There were a few people walking slowly from store to store in the perfectly manicured village.  It was almost surreal in its perfection under the bright late morning sun.
         The three slowed to a stop when they reached the café.  Back at the compound they were nearly out of coffee, so they decided to take the short ride into town to replenish their supply of coffee beans and bagels for the next week.
         After walking their bikes to a nearby bike rack, Maria wiped the glaze of perspiration from her forehead.  Martin turned exposing her to his profile as fat beads of sweat dripped down from his sideburns.  He took off the empty backpack and carried it in one hand and held Heather’s hand in the other.
         The café has a few patrons sitting here and there, reading papers and magazines while sipping beverages.  Maria stood still for a moment and took off her sunglasses.  The café went completely silent and all of the people in the store looked at them.  Uneasy moments that seemed like long miserable marches passed before the patrons pretended to return to their reading and coffee.  A sudden shot of anxiety sparked through Maria, but she was not certain why.
         The trio slowly walked through the edgy shop to the counter where the thin, pale young man with black horn rimmed glasses and his hair pulled back into a ponytail waited anxiously.
         “Hey man,” Martin managed smoothly, “how’s it goin?”
         “Okay,” the young man replied, obviously shaken.
         “We’d like to get some whole bean coffee and bagels to go,” Heather stated with obvious uncertainty lingering in her throat.
         The young man swallowed hard and loud.  Fear crossed his face before he managed to say, “I’m sorry.  I can’t serve you.”
         Martin chuckled, feigning amusement.  “What, you’re all out of coffee and bagels?”
         “Well, no….  I just can’t….  That is, I’m not supposed to ….”
         Maria felt her ears and cheeks flushing.  She quickly looked around the café.  As she did the other patrons pretended to be minding their own business.  That was when she noticed they were all white.  Anger, fear, and near panic erupted within her.  She had heard many stories of racism in America, everything from racial profiling and trailing minorities in stores to charging them different rates or refusing them service.  Not to mention the obvious segregation still employed by some communities.  This, however, was the first time she had ever experienced such a bold bigotry.
         Certainly in the past she had noticed other people in Green Bay and at the University would cast a lingering gaze at her, but she had always felt it was more of curiosity than anything else.  She had never felt any overt threat anyway.  After all, she was not from North America and there was little exposure to other races and cultures in northeastern Wisconsin.  But, she had never in her life experienced anything of this sort.
Maria turned to the young man and did not attempt to conceal the anger in her voice.  “This is because we’re not white, isn’t it?”
         The young man’s eyes bulged in shock.  “What?  No….  It’s nothing like that….”
         “Then what?” Maria countered.  “If we were white we’d have gotten our coffee and paid by now.”          
         The young man stood dumbfounded with his mouth slightly agape.
         “Aye, chingate mesoto.  No toco en su café ahora.  El hombre blanco es el diablo.”  She spat the words bitterly and hurried outside before her anger completely overtook her.
         “Maria wait!” Heather shouted and ran after her.
         The young man shook his head slowly and spoke in a near whisper.  “No.  They won’t let me.  I’ll get fired if I do.”  His face riddled with fear, he peered deeply into Martin’s rich brown eyes.  “It’s not like that at all.  It’s all ‘bout the tourism an dandelions an dat.”
         Martin’s brow wrinkled.  His nostrils flared.  He stood still and solid as iron.  “What?”  He demanded.          
         The young man nodded and whispered.  “It’s true.  Nearly the whole town is in on it.  We’re not supposed to serve any of you until the yard in front of your place is cleaned up.”
         The impact of this consequence to his and Sonny’s stubbornness struck Martin hard.  He took a deep breath in through his nose and sighed.  “That’s fucked up, man.”
         The young man who was now so pale he was nearly blue nodded in agreement.
         “They got no right,” Martin continued.  “We’re outside of the town.  They got no right to tell us what to do with the property.”
         The young man looked at Martin with helpless round blue eyes bulging behind his horn-rimmed glasses.  “I’m really sorry.”
         “Its okay brother,” Martin relinquished.  “But you need a new boss.”  He turned and walked toward the door with a particular swagger as he eyed up the patrons in the café.  “It’s fucked up,” he said loudly enough for all to hear and then he exited the café.
         Outside Maria and Heather stood by the bikes.  Maria was nearly in tears.  Guilt and remorse surged through Martin when he saw the two young ladies consoling on another.  He could feel their anger, fear and confusion.  It was then he realized that though he still felt he and Sonny were right about not having to comply with the mayor’s demands, this petty struggle had now moved into a new dimension.  It was no longer between Sonny and the Mayor; it now directly involved everyone, all of the artists and the entire town.  Never did he imagine it would come to this.
         As Martin approached, Heather looked at him with large wounded eyes.
         “Fucking bigots,” Maria spat.
         Martin shook his head and sighed.  “They’re not bigots, Maria,” he began and then paused.
         Maria and Heather watched him, waiting for him to continue.
         “What the hell is going on here Martin?” Heather finally asked impatiently.
         “It’s about Sonny and DeMaster.”
         “What?” Maria asked in disbelief.
“Yeah, the dude behind the counter told me the town is cutting us off until we clean up the front yard.”
         “But that’s ridiculous!”  Heather exclaimed.  “What difference does it make what Sonny’s yard looks like?”
         “I know,” Martin concurred.          
         For a moment a sense of guilt and relief befell Maria as she realized she unjustly called people bigots.  Still, anger continued to surge through Maria, but now its focus had shifted from the town folk to Sonny.  Maria could not believe Sonny had let things come to this.  Maria pulled her bike from the rack.  She ignored Martin’s and Heather’s questions as she hopped on and began pedaling back to the compound.          
         Fueled by a new found rage Maria pushed the pedals hard and fast, ignoring the burning in her thighs.  The only thing she could think of was Sonny and what he had done to her, what he had done to all of them.  Thoughts of burning the huge unkempt field of weeds littered with yellow flowers of dandelions that lay before the house rushed through her mind as she turned up the road that along side of the front yard.
         Maria hopped off the bike letting it fall at the top of the driveway in front of the house.  She stormed into the living room walking quickly and stiffly.  She slapped at her forehead to wipe the sweat away as she entered the kitchen to find Sonny there, making a sandwich.
         “What the hell is wrong with you?” Maria demanded as she shoved Sonny in the chest. 
         “What the hell did I do?” Sonny asked with wide eyed confusion.
         “The whole town stands against us now and it’s all your fault!”
         “What?” Sonny had no idea what Maria was talking about.  “Calm down, Maria.  I don’t know what’s going on.”
         Another jet of anger surged through Maria.  In a moment she recollected her fears, angers, and embarrassment she experienced in the café.
         “Martin, Heather, and I were not allowed to by anything at the café.  Martin said the whole town is in on it because you won’t get rid of the dandelions.”
         Sonny was dumbfounded.  “That’s ridiculous,” he insisted.
         “You promised me that if we came here to help you with the gallery, you would take care of us.  Is this how you take care of us?  We can’t go to town anymore, people hate us.  It was embarrassing, Sonny, and I’m starting to think this whole thing was a mistake.”
         “Maria, calm down,” Sonny pleaded.
         “Bullshit!” Maria yelled as water welled up in her eyes.  “I gave up being home with my family in my own country for this.  I should just burn all of those damn dandelions.”
         Sonny’s face stiffened and a serious, crazed gaze fueled his eyes.  “No, don’t do anything to the yard.”
         Maria’s jaw dropped.  She could not believe that after what had happened to her and the others that Sonny refused to take recourse and try to make amends.  Disappointment and anger began to overwhelm her.  A rush of bitterness swelled in her until she could no longer face Sonny.  Maria pushed past him and ran out the kitchen door before she began to cry in front of him.
Outside, Maria ran through the heavy humid summer air to the beach.  Consumed with anger and sorrow, she didn’t stop when she reached the sand.  She continued to run but was slowed as her feet sank and slid in the sand with each step.  Eventually she fell forward, short of breath.  Maria rolled onto her back panting and gasping.  She ignored the sand grains sticking to her sweaty skin and hair as she began to weep.
         Waves of bitterness washed through her with every breath until finally her stomach knotted and tears poured.  She lay under the sun with the waves pounding the shore at her feet.  Finally, the remorse and anger ebbed enough that she was able to catch her breath and sit up.  She sloppily brushed the sand from her arms and legs, then wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled them to her breasts.
         Maria wanted to go home.  She wanted to leave as soon as possible.  It felt as the entire summer had been a waste for her.  It was one thing to work with others and struggle to achieve a common goal as long as it was positive.  But now, Maria could see no good in her staying any longer.  Sonny had completely entrenched them in a situation where they were shunned by the village, and only because he was too stubborn to consider the town’s needs and help his neighbors.  Instead he had chosen a fight and pulled all around him in to it with him whether or not they were willing participants.
         Yes, Maria concluded this was a waste of her summer and the only thing she wanted to do now was salvage what time she had left and return home for a few weeks.  However, reluctance to return to the house to call for flights held her indecisively where she sat.  She did not want to see Sonny again.  She wanted no part of the confrontation she knew would take place with him if she returned now. 
         A thought then occurred to Maria.  She looked down the beach and a sour smirk crossed her face.  With a quiet grunt she hauled herself to her feet and began walking to Jean’s house.