December 1 - December 24, 1998

CHAPTER XXI

HIDDEN FORCES

Once Jay discovered Julia had bolted, his first move was to dial her house back in Los Angeles. Three rings. No Julia.

One more ring and the machine would pick up. Jay let it. Paco's voice was still on the out-going message. This is what Jay heard: "Jules and Paco can't come to the phone right now, but if you want to leave a message, you'll get the opportunity to do that when the beep comes round."

Although the sound of Paco's voice on the tape always jolted Jay, it also never failed to comfort him. Sometimes when he was out with Julia he would excuse himself, find a private corner or go to the men’s room, pull out his cell phone and called the house especially to hear his beloved buddy's voice. From the number of hang-ups Julia confided to Jay that she found on the answering machine, he guessed a lot among Paco's kith and kin did the same thing.

"Merry Christmas, old friend," Jay whispered in the silence between when Paco stopped talking and before the beep came around.

Following the phone call to the house, and after getting the number from Los Angeles Directory Information, Jay called Lilly, Julia's neighbor: the one charged with caring for the cats in Julia’s absence.

"Lilly, it's Jay," he said into the phone, "any sign of Jules at your end?"

"Funny you should ask," she said. "Just after daybreak I heard all this racket. I got out of bed, looked out the window just in time to spot what I think was a tow truck hauling the Alfa away."

Jay felt momentary relief. For once, maybe, the Alfa's chronic unreliability would work for the forces of good and keep Julia off the road.

"I was sure Jules said the two of you and those other people were going to be at the Grand Canyon until Christmas night. What happened?"

"Lilly, that's a damn good question. Call me here at the El Tovar--Jules said she left you the number--if you see or hear from her."

As Jay hung up the phone, he saw the desk clerk waving at him from across the lobby. When Jay arrived at the desk, the clerk handed him a letter from Julia.

"Sorry," the clerk said, "I wasn't on last night when Mrs. Berelli checked out and I didn't see this in your box before."

"Thanks," Jay said, accepting the envelope.

He sat down in an overstuffed chair between the astounding Christmas tree and the large and open fireplace. He tore the letter open. It was penned on hotel stationery.

December 23

Dear Jay,

Something happened to me out on Walpi this afternoon. I didn't mention it because you had already lost patience with me, and because I was certain if I revealed what I experienced, you'd think it was just another manifestation of my crazy conduct since Paco died. The thing is, Jay, I did experience a kind of "manifestation."

I'm going back for the puppy. I can't get into the reasons right now, but believe me, they're good ones.

I really can't tell you how much I appreciate it that you've taken Paco's last request to you--to watch over me--so to heart. I want to offer a heartfelt apology that I've made it such an ordeal. It might not seem like it to you at the moment, but considering the state I've been in, I think you did an excellent job. I consider your behavior to be completely serif. Paco would, too, I just know it. I'm sure you've made him very proud.

The main thing I want to tell you now, however, is that your job is done (I hope). I discharge you of all extra obligations to me, beyond those of the normal bonds of friendship. We are friends, I think. Even if we don't always like each other all that much.

By the time you read this, I'll probably be somewhere near Flagstaff. Your promise to Paco might persuade your conscience that you need to come back up to First Mesa to either dissuade me from retrieving the puppy (if he's still alive), or to somehow oversee things. Please, don't, okay? I believe that everything to do with our holiday trip, including its choice of destination, was foreordained. There are hidden forces at work here (I see sweet Paco's hand all over this). I know this is something I have to see all the way through, and on my own. Even though the prospect is scaring the daylights out of me, my lost honor is at stake, so is my lost faith. You've just got to trust me on this.

We'll talk back in LA. Have a Merry Christmas. Enjoy yourself.

Love,

Jules

A manifestation? Lost honor, lost faith? Oh, boy. Jay folded the letter and tucked it in the pocket of his corduroy sports jacket, where he had stuffed the dining room napkin. Now what, he wondered with creeping dismay. Julia hadn't been behind the wheel of a car since June. Julia, who was petrified of driving, was traveling approximately twelve hundred miles round-trip to rescue a puppy who most likely hadn't survived the night. Jay was also dismayed by the idea that she would be on this quest in Paco's beloved but capricious Alfa Romeo. Maybe whatever was wrong with the Alfa was serious, or better yet, terminal. Of course there was nothing to stop her from retrieving her drivers' license from Steve Quinn's clinic and simply renting a car, was there? Unless . . .

It was a further cause for alarm when Jay remembered--he had read this in the Village newspaper at breakfast--that there were two severe winter storm fronts converging on the area, one from the north and one from the southeast. Both were due to arrive early that evening.

Despite Julia's claim to Jay in her letter that this was a mission she needed to accomplish on her own, he felt duty-bound to do . . .something. Jay got up and strolled back to the bank of phones in the corridor between the lobby and the dining room to place one more phone call to Los Angeles. Following that, he telephoned Ponsi Hall on First Mesa. He was informed Dewey Kayenta was otherwise occupied, and that the mesa was closed for the day to outsiders.

After that, Jay went back to his room for his down jacket and gloves. A few moments later outside the El Tovar, when he tried to start the rented Chevy (he had some vague plan for driving back up to Hopi country and trying to head Julia off if she made it that far) something was wrong with it and he couldn't get the engine to turn over.

Jay phoned the rental company for assistance. They sent a mechanic. The mechanic could find nothing wrong with the car: full tank, points, plugs, battery all okay. When the mechanic phoned the dispatcher to ask for a replacement vehicle, Jay wasn't surprised when the dispatcher informed them there were no other cars available, and that as far as she knew all the other rental companies were out of cars, too. (Holiday rush, you know.)

Much later in the afternoon, as Jay stood on the broad plank porch of the El Tovar, after all his efforts to catch a ride up where he needed and wanted to be failed, when he began to taste a dankness in the air which he knew augured the arrival of the impending weather systems, he could almost believe in Julia's crazy notions about foreordination and hidden forces.

(to be continued)

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