42 Xanadu

Even in a very long life, there are a handful of moments that truly stand out, memories whose vivid scents and colors can be recalled in the space of a few breaths. Joy and terror, love and loss, are all at our fingertips if we care enough to reach out for them. Many of my own most intense memories have filled this book. There are more besides these to be sure, both good and bad, but mostly good.

I have one more to share, that happens in the fall after our misadventures in Denver. Sandy and I are driving along the Pacific sea shore, on one of those impossible California days when sunshine hits your skin in a libation so thick you can feel its weight. Further inland the heat would be oppressive, but on the strip of flat land between the Pacific and the gently folded, forested hills of central California it's just hot enough to make you want to go for a swim. We have the windows down, to let in the sea air to keep us cool.

Sandy is heavy now, yet she has one bare foot stuck out the open window to let the salt-tanged wind flow through her toes. She's never seen the ocean before, and she's hardly taken her eyes off it since it came into view. The wind tries to blow her sundress up, the one I told her to wear, but she's weighted it down with a bag full of apples and plums and young carrots and tiny orange tomatoes and more exotic fruits, gifts from the last grateful settlement we passed through on our way here. Her hair is short again, and it whips behind her as she grazes over the sun-drenched produce.

The Ecklunds, with Fern as their driver, are a hundred yards ahead of us, our protection detail, while a van full of visitors from other settlements follows behind. They've come for a season of training with the Sojourners: agriculture, zombie management, electronics. Among the visitors there's a philosophy teacher we hope will stick around for the long term. We think that, maybe, if we teach ethics alongside weapons skills we can prevent another Hector.

Our convoy turns off the road and heads up into the hills until a complex of white buildings rises above us, occupying high ground like the castle it was meant to be. The main building is a multilayered mansion, fronted by a massive portico flanked by tall Spanish bell towers. Three smaller mansions face out from slightly lower on the hill. This is where the Sojourners have taken up residence: Hearst Castle. Xanadu.

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Sandy's feet are on the floor now, and the bag has been tossed to the back seat, forgotten. There is a big parking lot slightly downhill from the buildings, well-shaded by solar panels, but we don't quite reach it before we stop. All around us, the hillside is gently sculpted in swales to retain rainfall, and thousands of plants of different maturities are already in the ground: saplings, fruiting shrubs, vines, herbs, flowers, and ground cover. They've been working on the project for some time, because the areas near the top of the hill show half a year's growth. In a few years it will be a forest of food.

There are dozens of people on the hillside, with shovels and digging sticks and wheelbarrows, but they're just standing and watching. They're watching us, and they're watching Rachel. She's in a white cotton shirt damp with sweat, and a straw hat. Strapped to her front is a baby in a white onesie and tiny straw hat, a smaller version of its mother. I don't even get the car properly stopped before Sandy is unbuckled and on the street in flip-flops, running, then kissing Rachel on the cheeks and crying happily, pinching the baby's doughy face. Rachel admires Sandy's belly, praises her, and asks the usual questions. How long? Are you hoping for a boy or a girl? Sandy gets to hold the baby and asks her name: Abigail. She holds little Abby like she had come from her own body, and says she wants to nurse the baby. It's quickly agreed that Abby and our child will be milk-siblings.

I watch them, lost in their happy bubble, their joy my own. But eventually I have to leave the car because I can't hold myself in any more. I join their huddle, Rachel and Sandy and Abby. I get to hold Abbey "for practice" and blow bubbles on her face and neck until she can't stop laughing.

Father Caleb is there, and everyone else who is still living, crowded around the Ecklunds and welcoming the visitors. There's some some new Sojourners who want to introduce themselves, but Rachel cuts the greetings short. She wants to show us the castle, show us everything, and do it right now. We walk up to the great house: Rachel in the center, baby on her chest, holding hands with Sandy and me. The light comes off the white facades bright and sharp, but under the trees and eaves of the mansion the day is bearable.

Everyone has their own paradise. This one is mine.