Copyright © 1998 by Jim Oakley
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Mrs. Mead had gone home, and Ream found his easy chair in the living room. The phone on the table rang. It was a woman's voice. "I have been given this number to reach Mrs. Mead. Is she there?" "No. She won't be back until morning. May I take a message?" The woman replied, "Oh no. I guess not, are you her husband?" "No, I'm Ream Johnson, I've taken a home here in Sedona for a few months and Mrs. Mead has agreed to clean and fix meals for me." There was another "Oh" and a hesitation. Then the woman said, "My name is Sally Barringer and I heard Mrs. Mead is organizing a discussion group, which I may be interested in joining. Would you know anything about it?" Mrs. Mead hadn't mentioned anything, but Ream became curious. He wondered if the discussion group was related to her husband's blindness in the war. He responded, "No, but now I'm curious. What kind of discussion group?" "It's called Woman's Spirit." Ream couldn't get his understanding around the words. "Oh?" "Yes," said Sally, "discussion focusing on women's issues from a woman's perspective. It's an insight and support group all in one." There was something about Sally Barringer's voice which pulled Ream. He shifted ears with the telephone and said in a passing way, "Sounds like something I could use, only for men. And since I don't yet know a soul in this town, it would be welcome company." "Tell me," said Sally, "what brought you to Sedona if you don't know anyone there?" Ream recoiled slightly because he didn't want to wade through his story. He did not want her pity. He wanted friendship, so he chose not to mention his blindness. "When you turn fifty, you seem to have collected a lot of unanswered questions along the way. For too long I lived answers from others. Whatever I was doing was not working, or something was missing. It's time to question everything, and find my own way." "Sounds like we're in the same position," replied Sally. "My family fell apart after twenty years. I thought I did everything right, but it still didn't work. I have a similar set of questions. If you find any answers, let me know." And, then in a casual, passing way Sally said, "We ought to compare notes sometime." Sally Barringer's voice registered either a memory or a wish for Ream. More than a pleasant voice, it had a melody that was penetrating yet soft. Almost sensual, but in a way that kept him at a small distance. It was this sense of push and pull that drew Ream toward the voice. Ream listened with his inner ear to the feeling and spirit of this woman. Perhaps somewhere along the way she, too, had been stripped of everything except her naked self. Ream knew he wanted to know her. Ream responded, "I agree. I hope our paths cross again sometime." "I do too," said Sally. With a lingering hint of curiosity between them, it seemed likely they would talk again. After saying good bye, Ream sat back and reflected. There was something at work here. Subtle, comfortable, yet fragile, a small tug of recognition between two pilgrims in life, as if they came from the same town or knew someone in common. Ream was puzzled about what it could mean. There lingered the sound of a voice remembered or lost in a dream. |