The Adam Enigma (30 page)

April 14, 2016
Grinnell, Iowa

T
he memorial for Orensen was held on a Saturday at Grinnell College's historic Herrick Chapel. The building could seat seven hundred, and every pew and space in the balcony was filled with colleagues, students he had touched, old friends, relatives, and some of the New Gnostics Ramsey recalled from the meeting. They sat together in a small group beneath a stained glass rendering of Heinrich Hoffman's
The Ascension
.

Ramsey looked over at Paige. “I'm a little nervous.”

She smiled reassuringly. “You'll be fine.”

He wasn't sure she was telling the truth but it felt good to have her by his side. Although Paige was staying at Ramsey's house, after the first night they decided not to sleep in the same room. Something needed to be worked out. Both said they were fine with the arrangement while she looked for an apartment.

When the College's chaplain finished the benediction, he motioned Ramsey forward. Ramsey walked to the pulpit. On a table next to him was a brass urn with Roger's ashes. Looking down to the first row, Ramsey saw Evelyn. Their eyes met and she smiled encouragingly. His nervousness disappeared.

Turning to the back of the chapel, he pointed at the stained glass representation of William Holman Hunt's
The Light of the World
. “You can see Roger Orensen's face there because he was a light to everyone
who ever met him.” He smiled as the new Gnostics in the crowd whispered “Amen” among themselves.

“Like many of you, my own life has been far richer because of him.”

Again the Gnostics whispered, Amen,” this time joined by many in the crowd.

“For Roger, each day was a day to shepherd a friend, a student, anyone he encountered along their path to discovering their purpose in life. That was his gift . . . his genius. . . . He always knew what you needed next. He was the archetype of the wise man. I'm sure everyone here has experienced that wisdom at critical times in their lives. I certainly did on more than one occasion. Roger, you will be missed.” Ramsey picked up the urn and raised it above his head with both hands. “Thank you Roger for your understanding, your joy, and most of all for your gift of wisdom that you willingly gave to the whole world.”

This time everyone in the chapel raised their voice in unison, “Amen!”

The reception was held under a large canopy on the lawn next to the chapel. Ramsey mingled among the crowd exchanging hellos. He spotted Evelyn in a group of New Gnostics and several college faculty. He steered toward them.

“Perfect eulogy,” the Grinnell's Chancellor said to him. “Exactly what Roger would have wanted—short, sweet, and no flamboyance.” He was a heavyset man with the hands of a farmer, which he had been until he met Orensen at a roadside diner outside of Ames, Iowa. He told the others, “After talking to Roger for twenty minutes, I decided to sell the family farm and go back to school. Twenty years later, I ended up here.” He chuckled. “Like coming home. A toast to Roger.”

Ramsey lifted his glass and drank with the others.

Evelyn asked him, “How did Roger change your life?”

Ramsey had not wanted to tell anyone about that, but now the others looked at him expectantly and he realized he had opened the door with his remarks. “I first met Roger as an eighteen-year old freshman with no direction and a lot of questions. Then, when I
became his student, it seemed as though whatever direction Roger pointed me in, my questions would be answered, though inevitably more would spring up to take their place.”

“He had a way of doing that,” the Chancellor said.

“One direction in particular set me on my career path. One weekend in late May he took three of us on a tour of Iowa's sacred places. First, to the Grotto of the Redemption in West Bend. Then we went to Fairfax, Iowa to the Maharishi International University founded in 1973 by Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. At both places we discussed and analyzed the characteristics that made them sacred and how they impacted the people there.

“The final stop was a house in nearby Spillville, where Czech composer Antonin Dvorak wrote some of his most famous music. All of us wondered aloud why Roger took us to this house. After all, it isn't a place ordinarily considered sacred. Historically significant in the music world but not sacred. When we asked him about it, he just smiled that cherubic smile of his and said, ‘Wait for it.'

“So, the three of us walked around the house and grounds for about an hour. Dusk was falling by then, and when we got back together it was dark. We stood outside by the front entrance and Roger said, ‘Do you feel it?'

“Curiously, none of us had to ask what he meant. We all experienced the same sense of uplifting. I remember it had crept upon me first with a whisper. But as I walked around the grounds, the sensation swelled like Beethoven's
Ode to Joy
.”

Evelyn smiled. “I once had an experience like that myself. It was very moving. How do you remember it now?”

“It swept away shadows gathering in corners beneath maple trees and under cars. It seemed as if every bit of darkness were tinged with an aura of light so that hope gleamed through the gathering night in bright colors. By the time we all met up again, we were filled with a giddy kind of energy that could have tamed tigers and bears.

“I remember that I looked at Roger expectantly as though he had the answer to our unspoken question. But true to form he turned the tables on us and asked, ‘What is that?'

“We shook our heads. None of us could put our fingers on it. It was at the time, and remains to this day, a mystery.” Ramsey smiled at Evelyn. “Although I didn't know it at the time, that mysterious feeling was my call to begin my life's journey.”

“Perfect,” said the Chancellor, raising a plastic cup filled with red wine. The others echoed his affirmation.

The group drifted way. Evelyn stayed. “What you just said about Roger, I'm sure he would have found it moving.”

“Thank you. He was always an unwavering friend. How well did you know him?”

“Very.”

Ramsey's eyebrows raised.

Evelyn got the signal and said, “You probably want to know why you didn't know about me. Roger and I had a . . . well, perhaps a notso-platonic relationship, but it was a based on friendship. We kept it secret. It was a game.”

Ramsey thought for a moment. He could see how Roger would delight in the charade. “I'm sorry for your loss,” he said.

“Yes, it's a big one. You know we talked about you quite a bit.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Ramsey found himself slipping into his interview persona, inviting Evelyn to share with the way he stood, face neutral.

“There is one thing I believe he wanted me to tell you.” She paused as if trying to find the right words. Then, “It's a false choice to believe you can choose between your free will and the destiny designed by the gods for you. The paradox is that they are both true: You have free will, and your destiny has been laid out. Roger was sure that eventually Adam would tell you this but I'm telling you now. The experience of mystery you talked about just now hasn't gone away, has it?”

It was Evelyn's voice, but the words were the same as if his old mentor and friend were standing in front of him again. Ramsey nodded his head in agreement.

Evelyn pulled him close to her. She whispered, “Keep going!” Ramsey's phone buzzed in his pocket. “Take it,” she said enigmatically and walked away.

Ramsey jerked in surprise. He watched her walk toward another group.
She seemed to know the phone was going to buzz.
It was a text from his business partner. Ron wrote,
You're good to go to bring Maggie to the shrine
.

He saw Paige on the other side of the lawn, chatting with the dean of the college. He nodded at her. Moments later she shook the man's hand and threaded through the crowd of mourners to his side.

Paige tilted her head. “Something's different. What's going on?”

“Are you ready for that visit to the Rio Chama de Milagro Shrine?”

April 15, 2016
Rio Chama, New Mexico

B
eecher sat on the porch of his rustic cabin outside of Rio Chama. The night air was cool and overhead clouds played tag with the moon. Alone at night under the stars used to make him feel uncharacteristically vulnerable as though he were back in Vietnam waiting for an ambush. But the drone of crickets made him sigh with contentment. He knew it was only a moment's peace, because a storm was brewing out there around the shrine and maybe in his personal life. He and Myriam had not really patched things up as a true couple would. They had reunited as lovers and were working together for the betterment of the shrine, but there was still something missing.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table beside him.

He put down his coffee. He swiped the answer icon and said, “This is Beecher.”

“Hiram. It's me, Sam. Do you mind speaking with me?”

“No, I don't mind you calling.”

Conklin's hesitated. “I wasn't sure. Old patterns die hard.”

“What's going on?”

“I felt compelled to call you. Have you heard about the Reverend? Billy Paul?”

“I'm done with all that.”

“Of course.”

Beecher could hear the disappointment in the man he once trusted implicitly. “Go ahead tell me the news,” he said dispassionately.

“He's dying and,” Conklin paused dramatically, “he's disbanded the Brothers of the Lord.”

“There's a great idea,” Beecher said. “Did he say why?”

“The formal notification said the mission of the organization was complete with the closing of the shrine.”

Beecher responded angrily. “It's not closed. In fact, I'm going to buy it from the South Africans.”

“I didn't know that. Look, I just thought in case you were worried about Billy Paul and the shrine this would set your mind at ease.”

“Thanks.” Myriam called him from inside the cabin. Beecher got up from his chair and walked through the front door. “Thanks for the update,” he said. “I've got to go.”

“Anytime. Hey, are you okay?”

He ended the call without answering. As Beecher entered the kitchen, Myriam was all smiles.

“I have good news. Jonathan is coming back here next weekend.”

“Taking another look at the shrine?”

“Remember I told you about Jonathan's love interest back in Oregon? A young woman by the name of Paige. They were perfect for each other. I never found out why they split. Anyway, they reconnected in Grinnell and Jonathan asked if we would put her and a young black woman from Chicago up for a few days.”

“Sure, but why bring them here?”

“Jonathan's hoping the experience will be transformative for the young lady and will give her clarity about what she has to do back in her own community.”

Beecher nodded, not sure what Myriam meant. “It will give me a chance to speak with Ramsey face-to-face. I've wanted to apologize more fully to him for some time now.”

“He would like that.”

Beecher went to the coffee pot and saw that Myriam had brewed a fresh pot. He poured a cup, idly stirring cream into it for a moment. “I have some news too. Sam called. He told me a bunch of stuff about the Brothers of the Lord, except I can't tell if he's lying or just wanted to reconnect.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“A little worried. Surprisingly, it felt good to hear his voice, though I didn't say anything like that.” Beecher cleared his throat. “I was probably too short with him.”

Myriam went over to him. “You worried about what's going to happen to the shrine?”

“That and other things.” He raked his lower lip with his teeth. “I know we've been living here together for the last week, maybe trying to overcome the past for the sake of the shrine's future. But I want us to lay the past to rest for the sake of our future.” Taking Myriam's hand, he said, “Myriam, I never asked you to marry me.”

“You never had to, Hiram,” she said squeezing his hand.

“I loved that about you, still do. But I want you to make an honest man out of me,” he joked. He saw the sudden spark in her eyes and added swiftly, “Jokes aside, I can't imagine spending my life without you in it. These last few days alone without the drama of the shrine, I've realized that I want only you in my life as my partner. Myriam, will you do me the incredible honor of being my wife?”

She stood on her toes and kissed him lovingly. “Yes.” Then, “And will you do me the honor of being my husband?”

He enfolded her into his arms. “I will.”