Gathering Peace: A Novel Based on a True Story

By Peggy Warren

Peggy Warren has accomplished one of ­ fiction's most delicate high-wire acts: writing in the voice of a child, for adults. The innocence of childhood is deftly evoked in a bold girl's search for hardest kind of gift for her father, peace and quiet and a changed life to boot. A gallery of fascinating characters each offers some truth

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rustik Haws LLC
• Release date: Apr 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781952617188

Peggy Warren

Peggy Warren, is a true believer in the promise of the human spirit. My spirit guides me. All I have to do is listenpay attention, she beams as she talks about creating Gathering Peace, as well as her other books, featured on www.peggywarren.com She lives in Colorado with her husband, Ted, Toby the beagle, and Smoky the cat. They have three grown children.

Book preview

cover.jpg

Gathering

Peace

PEGGY WARREN

Gathering Peace by Peggy Warren

This book is written to provide information and motivation to readers. It’s purpose is not to render any type of psychological, legal, or professional advice of any kind. The content is the sole opinion and expression of the author, and not necessarily that of the publisher.

Copyright © 2020 by Peggy Warren

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed in any form by any means, including, but not limited to, recording, photocopying, or taking screenshots of parts of the book, without prior written permission from the author or the publisher. Brief quotations for noncommercial purposes, such as book reviews, permitted by Fair Use of the U.S. Copyright Law, are allowed without written permissions, as long as such quotations do not cause damage to the book’s commercial value. For permissions, write to the publisher, whose address is stated below.

ISBN: 978-1-951147-12-9 (Paperback)

ISBN: 978-1-952617-18-8 (eBook)

Printed in the United States of America.

Rustik Haws LLC

100 S. Ashley Drive, Suite 600

Tampa, FL 33602

https://www.rustikhaws.com/

Contents

My Disrupted Life

The Perfect Campground

On the Beach

Moving On

Getting To Know Angie

Disney World

Discovering Buddhism

My Time With Mom

The Library With Dad

On My Own

Granny's Gone

Sound Like It's Over

Off To Sebastian inlet

Settling In

Life at the Osbornes'

The Birthday's Here!

My Disrupted Life

I’m only eleven, so maybe that means I’m not old enough to vote in family affairs, or that’s what I figured, after my comfy life in a four-bedroom house suddenly turned into an anything but comfy life in a 31-foot trailer. All of this happened super fast when Dad quit his job and went nuts. Not just Dad, but Mom too. Apparently Dad had a fight with his boss so he just walked out. And then they sold our house and cars and bought a trailer, along with a station wagon to haul the beast. Maybe the brand new 1972 Airstream trailer would sound like fun to most people, but not to me, because our house wasn’t only a house

. It was my own bedroom with a canopy bed and nooks and crannies for my special porcelain doll collection, my piles of stuffed animals, and everything else I’d ever owned.

If I’d been paying attention to travel magazines piling up on the coffee table, or even giggles from my parents as they talked about seeing the country, I might’ve figured out something was going on. But it was the middle of June, and school finals were coming up, as well as Sports Day and a lot of practicing, so I wasn’t paying much attention to what Mom and Dad were doing. Because my brothers, Josh, who’s fifteen, and Ty, who’s thirteen, were into finals too, they probably weren’t paying attention either, or if they were, they weren’t telling me anything. The big surprise that smacked what Mom and Dad were doing in my face was the FOR SALE sign on our front lawn when I got home from school a few weeks after Dad quit work.

I charged into the house, dropping my books on the floor and then tripping over them as I wailed at Mom.

What does that sign outside mean, Mom? This is OUR house. You can’t sell it!

It was supposed to be a surprise, honey, she said, squishing her eyebrows together in a not nice frown. She flung her arms around me. I didn’t see Harriett put up the sign, so she must’ve done it while I was in the garden. We were going to tell you at dinner tonight. She stood back and clutched my shoulders, squeezing hard as she said. We’re going on an adventure!

I pulled away. Why? How? I don’t want an adventure! What kind of adventure are you talking about? Selling the house is not an adventure!

A Dad adventure, she said. An adventure where he can discover a new career idea. After twenty-five years in the advertising business, he doesn’t want to do that anymore. He wants to explore other options. It’s called ‘finding himself.’ Lots of men only dream of doing what your dad is making happen. You might’ve told me he was lost, Mom. He sure never looked lost to me. I mean we’ll be broke if Dad isn’t working.

I could feel my throat tightening.

He’s been working all his life, Zoey, and he’s tired of using his creative juices to make other people rich. He wants to work for himself. He’ll come up with another way to be successful, because he’s a businessman and that’s what they do, they make money. In the meantime, we need some of the house money to make this happen. The rest is in the bank for another house when Dad decides what he wants to do, and where he wants to do it. It’ll be fine.

So where are we going to live? I didn’t wait for an answer. I ran up the stairs to my room. I slammed the door and threw myself on my bed. Tears sprung out so fast my pillow was soaked in seconds.

I felt Mom’s hand on my shoulder. Her body dented the bed beside me and I rolled over, grabbing the sheet to wipe my face. Why? It’s not fair, Mom! Why didn’t you tell me any of this? Did you tell the boys?

Mom’s face scrunched up. We wanted the adventure to be a surprise for all of you, honey. Maybe that was thoughtless, and I’m sorry.

Sorry isn’t going to change stuff, is it? Can you take the sign down?

No, Zoey. There’s more than just the sign. Dad’ll tell you about what we’re doing tonight. Honestly, I think you’ll like it. It’s going to be fun.

And just like she’d said, the whole thing poured out at dinner that night. We’d just finished our meat loaf when Dad plastered a big smile across his face and said he had great news he wanted to tell us about.

Okay, Meg? he said. Now’s a good time, right?

I think it’s past a good time, Sam, said Mom, getting up. The For Sale sign spilled the beans, so you better go ahead and empty the whole can. She whipped the dishes off the table. I’ll get the dessert. She disappeared into the kitchen.

The whole can of what? asked Josh. I think it was pretty stupid to put the house up for sale without talking about it. So let’s hear some sense, Dad.

Ty and me, we didn’t say anything, because Josh had said it loud and clear enough that Ty and I just gawked. Our two white and woolly toy poodles, who’d always had their own chair at the table, perked their ears and gawked too, as Dad exploded our normal family life into something like a nut house, describing how we’d all be moving into the Airstream while we traveled around the country looking for a new thing for him to do.

He pulled a picture of the Airstream from his pocket and whipped it across the table for everyone to supposedly swoon over. It looked more like a spaceship headed for the moon than a place where five people, who hardly ever spent time together, were supposed to not only spend time together, but actually LIVE together, like ALL the time.

My jaw dropped to the table because there was no way I wanted to go anywhere in a spaceship or anything else. I’d lived my whole life in the same perfect house, on the same perfect street, and gone to the same perfect school with the same perfect kids since kindergarten, and I didn’t want any of that to change, ever!

Josh scooted his chair back and darted from the room. But Ty, after looking at the picture of the trailer, actually listened like crazy to Dad, and bounced up and down like his pants were on fire. I wanted to leave, but suddenly the poodles leapt from their chair onto my knee. They have this way of knowing who needs what and when, and for sure right then I needed the kisses they were plastering all over my face. Dad laughed at the poodles, but I don’t think he even noticed Josh leaving.

Not noticing Josh was no surprise. Actually I sometimes wonder if Dad even wanted kids, because, to be honest, he really doesn’t pay us a lot of attention. A workaholic is how I’ve heard Mom describe him to her friends.

I’ve never given Dad’s working a lot of thought. I’ve just known, from forever, that as a going-to-work dad, he dressed up every morning and drove off to Baltimore from our house in the suburbs, and came home in time for dinner every night. Sometimes he worked in his den after dinner, and sometimes on weekends he either went to the office or did office work at home. But to tell you the truth, I’ve never paid a whole lot of attention to anything else about him because I’ve always been too busy doing my own stuff. My best friend Amy, (who’s also eleven), we spend a lot of time talking about boys and sports and stuff like that. Neither of us likes any boy in particular, but we do talk a lot about what it would be like to have a boyfriend, and I guess instead of doing that, I should’ve been paying attention to what my parents were talking about.

Dad went on and on about how he was going to discover America, and all the things out there he could work at that’d be more fun than his old job. He had been a big shot at work, but I guess being a big shot didn’t make him happy if he was now wanting to travel around the country looking for something else to do.

Even though I said Dad doesn’t pay us a lot of attention, it’s true that if one of us gets excited about whatever he’s planning, then whoever that is usually gets to be included in his plans. On the other hand, if you don’t get excited, you pretty much disappear for him.

That’s what I think happened with Josh. He didn’t get excited listening to the big adventure, so even though his pushed-back chair made a racket, he just plain disappeared for Dad. Part of me wanted to go see if Josh was okay, but the other part knew he wouldn’t care what I thought. Josh is a bit like Dad. You don’t get included in his life either, unless he’s getting something, and the something he’s getting has to be a whole lot more than caring about him.

I know I’m making both of them sound mean, and I don’t want to do that because they’re not mean. They’re just the way they are, and I’m not like that.

Ty’s personality is somewhere between Josh’s and mine. He cares about other people, but he doesn’t spend a lot of time worrying about them like I do. Going away anywhere is a great idea for him because he dreads the thought of hanging around the house for the summer. He says it’s boring. Last year I tried to get him to come to day camp with me, but camp is mostly about playing sports, and Ty hates sports. He’s a real nut for comic books though, and has a bunch of old Superman ones I bet will be worth lots of money some day. Hardly anyone I know reads comic books.

Ty’s popular enough, but he likes to keep to himself. He’s skinny, with no muscles, and knees that knock together when he wears shorts. Although I think he’s cute, his thick glasses, too- big nose, and stringy hair don’t exactly add up to ‘cute.’ For me they do because he’s the best brother ever.

Josh is definitely not the best brother ever, but he is what they call ‘a hunk.’ He’s got a mass of blond curls, and sky blue eyes with black rims around the edges. Girls get into those eyes. I guess they’re supposed to be sexy, but I think of them as bullets because he shoots them at me whenever he wants things his way. For sure, Josh left the table because he wants to go to summer football camp in hopes of getting chosen to play quarterback in the fall. He’ll only be a sophomore, but he’s really good. And I bet you anything he’s dreaming of making out with at least one of the teenyboppers who hang around him like he’s some kind of movie star.

Later that night, Josh did make a loud attempt to get Dad to change his mind. I was in the hall outside Dad’s den, so it was hard to miss.

It’s not fair, Dad, he said. I’ve been by far the best guy on the team this year and I’m only inches from getting the big deal, and you’re saying it’s all over. That stinks!

"Yeah, a lot of things stink, Josh. You’re fifteen and you’ve got a lifetime of football ahead, if that’s what you want. I’m forty-six and I’ve got to make my big deal happen now, while I’m in my prime. If I were you, I’d find another tack than a sulky kid who’s trying to ruin the whole thing for everybody. Leaving the table in a huff is what stinks, and if I were you, I’d apologize to your mother.

I’m not apologizing, because I’m not sorry. I want to go to football camp and I’m not going to be able to, but that doesn’t mean I have to act happy about it. I’m not. I’ll be in the trailer because I won’t have anywhere else to be.

Josh opened the door and whizzed by me so fast my body smacked against the wall. I ran to my bedroom and buried myself in my pile of teddy bears, the ones that were so soft I could gather them all together and feel like I was floating on a cloud. I knew I had to decide which of my stuffed animals would get to come with me, but I couldn’t choose because I didn’t want to think about all the others squished together in a stuffy storage box. It was a whole lot easier just to count on our two woolly poodles for support when I needed it. They at least snuggle back. I got out of my room fast, before I started noticing all the other things I wouldn’t have anymore.

That made me wonder about Mom and how she felt about leaving behind her special things. One morning she was sorting bunches of wool for storage, and I asked her how she felt about leaving her weaving behind. Mom shared a big studio in Baltimore with three other weavers. She sold a lot of her weavings and had a bunch of them hanging in galleries in Baltimore. What she said about that knocked my socks off, especially since she’d just come home from the hairdresser that morning with all her fluffy blonde curls cut so short she looked more like a boy than my brothers.

It’ll be fine for traveling, she told me when I asked her why she’d cut her hair off.

What she said about the not weaving is what had knocked my socks off.

When your dad and I were first married, Zo, your granny told me, You fly on the wings of your husband, and I guess I bought it, because that’s pretty much what I’ve been doing for the past twenty years. I know it’s 1972 and women are becoming more independent, but I climbed on your Dad’s wings way back then, and I’ve been riding high on them ever since. She smiled a smile that looked pretty proud.

What’s that got to do with your weaving?

Well, Zoey, I know I’m a good weaver, but I don’t make a lot of money at it, and your father has supported my passion with his financial success. So I guess that pretty much means I’ve been flying high on his wings, without even thinking about what a responsibility it’s been for him. Well, maybe now, honey, it’s turnaround time.

Turnaround, like how? I don’t get it, Mom. I slumped onto the sofa beside her and started picking on a new hangnail.

She reached over and put her hand over mine. It’s okay. No picking at yourself. Let me finish.

I stuck my hands under my legs.

Your dad has a dream, Zo. He wants to do something creative and important with his life, and I think maybe it’s time for you, me, and the boys to spread our wings and let him climb aboard, give him all the support he needs. I can drop out of the studio for the time being and put my loom and supplies in storage. She attempted to fluff up tufts of hair that as far as I could see would only fluff in her memory. I wondered if she was doing that to keep from saying, I don’t want to give up weaving, but I can’t make enough money to support our family, and only Dad can, so we better pay attention to helping him get what he wants. I kept that to myself, but I sure wondered if any of us had wings strong enough to support Dad’s dream.

After that night at the dinner table when the so-called beans had been spilled, Dad started to show up as a whole different person. I mean, this big business guy, who’d worn nothing but suits and fancy shoes, was now wearing nothing but jeans and sandals. Even his wavy hair, always brushed flat with hair cream, was let loose to be just hair, doing whatever it wanted.

Are you all going to live in here at the same time? Amy asked while Dad was touring us through our new home on the day he pulled the spaceship into our driveway. The tour included a bedroom for my parents, with a bathroom beside it, and three beds for me and my brothers in the hallway that ran from the bathroom to the so-called living and dining room. The living and dining room had two arm chairs, a sofa, and a drop-down table with cushioned benches. Next to that was the kitchen, with a stove, a fridge, a sink, and some cupboards. Amy’s frown was huge.

While I was standing there trying to think of an answer to Amy’s question, Dad went on about how we’d lucked out; because the inside of the Airstream was designed for a family of five, and at the last minute the family had backed out. I couldn’t help but wonder if the back-out came when the kids got to see the closeness of their three beds. There was a bunk bed on one side of the hallway and a single bed with drawers underneath on the other. At least the beds had curtains around them. I knew Josh would grab the single bed, which he did. Ty didn’t care where he slept, so I chose the bottom bunk. That way I could get in and out fast.

When are you coming back? Amy asked. Will you be back in time for school?

I’ve got a friend on the school board, Dad said, and he’ll arrange for a correspondence course, with individual teachers, if we’re still on the road in September.

This was total news to both Amy and me. When our jaws dropped, Dad added, It’s an adventure. The best kinds of adventures are filled with unknowns. Now, c’mon girls, let’s go inside and make a toast! I’ve got champagne on ice.

We don’t drink champagne, Dad, I said, squeezing Amy’s hand.

The following weeks were a blur of activity. The house sale happened fast to friends of Mom’s, with three kids just like us. I suggested that Mom and Dad loan them all our stuff. That way, when they got over their crazies, we could come back to Baltimore and everything would still be where we’d left it. All we’d need would be another house.

That idea didn’t go over, and with school finals going on, my brothers and I missed most of the commotion of sorting, tossing, and packing for storage.

After school was out, there was a frenzy of goodbyes, with three going-away parties. The hardest one was mine, with all my friends overflowing Amy’s back yard. We laughed and cried and I came close to throwing up. I didn’t go to the party for my brothers, and only ran in and out of the one for my parents. Saying goodbye was really hard, especially since I had no idea how long we’d be gone. Maybe forever.

A few days after all the goodbye hoopla was over, the movers came and emptied the house into a huge van that would take our belongings to a warehouse. I didn’t want to be around for that, so I talked Amy’s mother (who is also Dad’s sister) into taking Amy and me to a restaurant for lunch and a special showing of the movie, Gone With The Wind. The movie was long, and the plan worked, because the moving wan was gone by the time we got home.

Aunt Alyssa dropped me off just as everyone was getting ready to climb into our station wagon to head to the hotel, where we’d spend our last night before taking off the next morning. Dad said the hotel extravaganza was a private celebration of our own. I was okay with that, especially since the fancy hotel restaurant served roast beef, with strawberry shortcake for dessert.

Early the next morning, we went back to my favorite house in the whole world that was almost spooky without any of our stuff in it. Dad did a final check of everything before he leapt out the front door with the house key in hand to lock up.

Wait, Dad! Amy’s coming to have one last goodbye hug in my bedroom. You can’t lock the house until after that!

Dad looked at me like I’d just sprouted horns. What? he quizzed, even though I knew he’d heard me.

I felt my eyes fill up, and I guess my horns disappeared because Dad dropped the house key in his shirt pocket. He crouched down and wiped away the tears with his fingers. How about you and me, we go up to your bedroom and have the hug, sweetheart, he said, and if Amy shows up, we’ll make it a threesome hug. How’s that?

Really? You’d do that? I asked. I mean I couldn’t believe my ears, and especially after all the nasty thoughts I’d had about Dad not caring.

Really, he said. I’d be happy to do that.

He got up and took my hand. We went inside and up to my bedroom. Dad had hardly ever been in my bedroom when we lived there, so it was really weird having him there now.

I know this has been hard for you, Zo, he said. I saw that in the trailer, with you and Amy, but it’s something I have to do, sweetheart. I can’t go on cheating myself of the life I want. I know I’ve been a lousy dad for you guys, but it’s been hard for me to be a good dad and a great businessman at the same time, especially with all the commuting and all the pressures of everyone else depending on my brilliant ideas. I want my brilliance to be for us, our family, not anyone else. And I want to explore opportunities across the country, not just in Baltimore. Can you understand that?

I had so many goose bumps, but Dad didn’t say anything about them. He just pulled me into this huge hug. It was supposed to be Amy’s hug, but honestly, in my whole life I’d never had a hug like that from Dad before.

I hugged him back. Thanks, Dad, I said. I wanted to say a whole lot more, but I didn’t know how.

Can we go now? he asked. I know Amy’s not here, but your mom’s waiting.

That’s okay, I said in a normal voice, but I sure felt a way better than normal. Sure I was sorry Amy wasn’t there, but I’d just seen for the first time ever this really soft side of Dad. Maybe I didn’t want to leave Baltimore, and maybe I was a little worried about having no money, but I sure was glad that Dad didn’t have to be a workaholic anymore.

As soon as we got back outside, Dad locked the door. He took my hand and shouted New Beginnings! to all the neighbors gathered around the trailer with Mom and my brothers.

And there came Amy, barreling down the street, with Aunt Alyssa trailing behind her. (Their house was two blocks away.) I ripped my hand from Dad’s and ran to meet her. She handed me a box. Mom took me to get this, so I’m sorry I’m late.

I was scared you weren’t going to get here, I said. I opened the box and it was full of the prettiest rainbow-colored notepaper.

You’ve got to write me every day, Zo, because it cost me two weeks allowance. Can we still go and hug goodbye in your bedroom?

Dad locked the door and he’s ready to go, so I guess not. But at least you’re here. I was scared when you didn’t show up. The notepaper’s great, and I’ll love writing you letters.

I wanted so badly to tell her about what had just happened with Dad, but I knew I didn’t have time. I hugged her so tight, I squashed the box under my arm, which she didn’t notice because Dad was calling for us to hurry up. We ran to the car holding hands. I wanted to drag her along with me, but before I knew it, we were pulled apart and I was in the car without her. My heart literally hurt as I watched my best friend cling to Aunt Alyssa as we drove away. Mom reached over the front seat and squeezed my hand. Dad bellowed a chorus of I’m Movin’ On, while Ty joined in, even though he messed up the words. Josh sank into the back seat with a groan, and Jacques and Jolie let up on their window scratching in the back of the station wagon. Instead, they cuddled together in their wicker basket.

After a really long drive through a mess of traffic, with stops for gas, food, and the bathroom, we finally pulled into our first campground on Cape Cod around six o’clock, all of us so wired we were practically sizzling. Why Dad hadn’t chosen somewhere closer to Baltimore I didn’t know, but with all the tension it didn’t seem like a good idea to ask.

Outside the campground store, where we were sixth in line to register, Dad snarled, Where did all these people come from? They weren’t part of the description of this place in the catalog. He opened the car door and slid out. He shook his legs about a thousand times before he got back in and turned the air conditioner to high.

C’mon, Dad, Josh said, chewing and popping his gum a mile a minute. Didn’t you know this is the big deal for summer vacations? I could’ve told you that.

I probably wouldn’t have heard you. I wasn’t thinking of summer vacations, and let up on the gum. You’re making me nuts.

It’s not too late. I said, pulling the bouncing poodles into my lap. We can turn around, go back to Baltimore and get the Balsams to let us park the trailer in our old driveway until we find another house.

Not an option, Zoey, said Dad.

It’ll be fine, Mom said, whipping her hand back and forth over her tufts of hair that were actually