La Cuesta Encantada

By Bill Moseley

Sam Garcia needs a vacation.

After a rough few years teaching high school History in the valley, all he can think about is getting out of the dusty heat, and spending a few days over at the coast, unwinding and hopefully figuring out what's next for him. When Sam calls to reserve a room at his favorite hotel, though, he is surprised by a familia

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Learning Underground
• Release date: Aug 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781087907567

Book preview

One

Getting Away

Sam reclined in his chair, his eyes tracing the billowing outline of water stains in the aging ceiling tiles. The noise from outside penetrated the paper walls of the empty portable classroom, fighting with the drone of the air conditioning unit. It was hot outside — even for late September in the valley — and the students seemed anxious to come into the classroom after their lunch break. Sam hadn’t moved from his chair in the 45 minutes he’d been alone, unable to overcome his own inertia when he sat down at the end of the class period before, tilting his chair back and putting up his feet. He hadn’t planned on getting out of town during his school’s fall recess either, but after the few months he’d had, he just needed a break.

Sam was one of the youngest teachers at the Elliot T. Hirsch High School, but he was also one of the most qualified. After finishing his Masters Degree in History, he had abruptly moved home to Fresno to care for his sick mother, which meant taking the only teaching job he could find. It wasn’t his plan, but it was the least he could do for the woman who raised him by herself. Sam had inherited her blue eyes and her stubbornness, but the rest of him – the brown complexion and hair – came straight from his father. Sam was the unlikely product of a mother with Norwegian parents who had moved to the Fresno in the 70’s, and a Mexican immigrant who had moved to the valley in pursuit of a better life. Susan Garcia had lost her husband in an accident working in the fields when Sam was just a baby, and had raised Sam without help from anyone. It didn’t seem fair that just as she reached the finish line, launching Sam successfully into adult life after the completion of his Masters Degree, that she would discover that she had cancer.

… only months to live, if I’m lucky, her words still echoed in Sam’s mind.

So, instead of working on his Ph.D. and exchanging big ideas with some of the greatest minds in his field, Sam was here – teaching U.S. History to a bunch of high school kids in the inner city. He owed it to his mom, after how hard she had worked to get him through college.

The worst part? His mother had passed away during the second week of school. As it turns out, months to live was a generous estimate. So here he was, six weeks after her passing: No mom, no doctoral program, and perhaps worst of all – no idea what to do next. Sam sat in his empty classroom, blinking away the flicker of the fluorescent bulbs, trying to figure out the rest of his life with only 10 minutes left in the lunch period to do it.

I’ve got to get out of here, he said out loud, with nobody to hear. But where to?

Sam was miserable. In fact, between the stress of finishing his master’s degree, starting a new job, and his mom’s passing, Sam couldn’t remember the last time he was happy. His mind traveled back through the years, trying to remember when he’d last felt like himself – a time when he felt really, actually happy. Images from his master’s degree program flashed in his mind, followed by his undergraduate years. There were moments of superficial happiness, but they were fleeting. Finally, he remembered the place. He’d spent much of his childhood and teen years there – a place that held some of his most precious memories. Rocky cliffs overlooking the blue ocean, covered with brush except for wood-covered walking paths that wound their way through windblown cypress trees. Something stirred inside him — it felt like an old, dusty machine starting up after a long time. He reached for the phone on his desk, careful to maintain the balance of his leaning chair, and quickly searched for a number.

The Whaler Inn, Moonstone Beach, CA

He’d been there many times before, starting when he was very young. It was one of the few places that his mom could afford to take him on vacation when he was a kid, thanks to the kindness of the owners, who knew his mother’s older sister. As he grew from a toddler into a boy, his mother managed to finish her teaching credential which allowed them to spend part of their summers there. The owners always allowed them to stay in a guest room and his mother would help out at the hotel. It was hard work for his mother, and not so much a vacation. Sam knew that she did it for him, and that her joy was watching her son get to enjoy being a kid without the worries and stress that came with being poor and brown in the San Joaquin Valley. Moonstone Beach became tradition for their little family. It continued until Sam left for college, when his mom said that it just wasn’t as fun to go without him.

Not everyone knew it, but fall was actually the best time of year to visit. Summers were very crowded with surfers, honeymooners, and families with kids. Oddly, in the summer the fog often lingered for a good part of the day, only leaving when the afternoon winds blew it offshore. But once late September rolled around, the fog would disappear and the sun would come out. The afternoons were still and beautiful, and virtually nobody was around to see it. In fact, locals would joke that from June to August, the tourists would come and have their time. Then they would go home and the locals could have the best couple of months to themselves.

Sam always felt like he’d earned the right to be called a local. After all, he’d spent almost as much time in the area as the people who lived there full time. He felt like a week at Moonstone would be just the thing to clear his head. Maybe then he could figure out what to do with his life.

Sam dialed the number. There were several hotels in Moonstone, but The Whaler was his favorite.

Good afternoon, you’ve reached The Whaler Inn. How can I help you?

The voice on the other end of the line was cheery, female, and unexpectedly familiar. It took Sam a second, but then it clicked.

Penny? Is that you?

The break in his concentration was short, but long enough that Sam’s desk chair began to tip backward. Catching himself, Sam let go of his phone, sending it to the floor.

Dang it!

Grabbing his phone, and what was left of his composure, Sam quickly put the phone to his ear.

Hello?

Sam? Sam Garcia? Are you ok?

Penny! What are you doing there? I thought you’d moved off to some big business job back east…

Sam crawled back on to his chair as some of his students started filing into the room after their lunch break. He considered leaving to take the call outside, as any respectable teacher would, but in his flustered state he decided to just try to make it quick. His face flushed as one of them gave him a sarcastic double-thumbs-up, making it clear he’d seen Sam’s stunt work. His blue eyes glared at the students in mock anger.

Hey Sam… Penny’s voice was friendly. My folks needed me here. They couldn’t keep up the hotel any more, and they were going to lose it. So I came back about six months ago, and here I am. We haven’t seen you in forever – how are you?

Realizing that Sam was on the phone with a woman, and sensing his confusion, the students all took turns making rude and dramatic gestures as they passed his desk on their way to their seats. Sam finally just closed his eyes so he could concentrate on the call.

Funny you should ask – I’m actually back in Fresno. Mom got sick earlier this year, and I came back to help her out. She passed about six weeks ago, but I’m not sure what’s next…

Sam’s voice trailed off as he realized how pathetic he sounded.

I’m so sorry, Sam, Penny said, with genuine empathy. We heard what happened. I know that must be really hard.

Thanks. It’s been rough…

Sam held his breath, suddenly struggling to maintain his composure. Penny had wanted to call when she heard the news, but she wasn’t sure Sam would want to hear from her.

Hey, Sam?

Yeah?

Are you coming to visit soon? Is that what you’re calling about?

Yeah… Actually, I was hoping to get over there tonight, and stay for a few days. Next week is our fall recess, and I’m hoping to get out of Fresno.

Another student formed a heart shape out of his hands and made kissing noises. Sam shot him a look that said, Knock it off or you will fail this class.

Well, I just happen to have your favorite room open, Penny’s voice sounded very tender on the other end of the line. You should come on over, and stay as long as you’d like. This one is on us.

That sounds really great. Are you sure…?

Mom and Dad would insist. And so do I.

Thanks, Penny. I’ll see you this afternoon.

Bye, Sam. I’m looking forward to it.

Bye.

Sam hung up the phone, feeling a little discombobulated. Giggles from a few girls who had just walked in reminded him where he was.

Ok, you guys… Settle down.

The class responded with a collective chuckle, and more than a few large grins. These kids liked Mr. Garcia. He made history more interesting, and he was one of just a few adults they knew who seemed like he actually cared about them. Of course, Sam’s thoughts were on something – or someone — else today: Penny.

Penny’s parents owned The Whaler, and Sam had known her for what seemed like most of his life. In fact, Sam first met Penny when they were kids. That was years ago, and they’d been friends almost the whole time - until the summer before Sam’s freshman year at UCLA, when they shared a brief summer romance. But Sam knew that he was entering a whole new world, and Penny was still a senior in high school, so they decided to take a break rather than suffer through a long distance romance. The next time they saw each other, Penny had a boyfriend. The summer after that, Sam was dating someone new. Eventually, they just moved on with their lives. The last Sam had heard, Penny had finished her MBA and had taken a job in New York with an executive firm.

Now Penny was back, and Sam was headed to Moonstone Beach for the next week.

Two

Jimmy

The sun was warm on Jimmy’s face as it pressed up against the window, taking in the sprawling coastline that rushed by as the small plane carried him south from San Francisco. The sights were overwhelming. The green hills on one side, the blue Pacific ocean on the other - not a building in sight. He’d barely left San Francisco in his 21 years. Kids from his neighborhood only dreamed of flying in an airplane. Now this young man who’d grown up on the narrow streets of the city, with its crowded markets and busy wharf district, was mesmerized by the open spaces spread out in front of him. So much so, in fact, that he barely noticed the inside of the plane, which was much nicer than any room he’d ever been in. This whole experience was beyond his imagination, and he’d only left the San Francisco Airport an hour ago.

The woman’s voice called him out of his daydream, drawing his attention to the scenery outside: Mr. Sanderson - If you look out your window and up ahead a bit, you can make out the castle on the hill… Castle. Anyone who had enough money to build a home that earned the name Castle had to be one of the most powerful men on the planet - and Jimmy was about to meet him in person. Of course, in his two years as a paperboy at the San Francisco Examiner, Jimmy had heard many stories about Mr. Hearst, and about the estate he had built on the central coast of California.

When the paper sales contest was announced in the late summer of 1929, Jimmy knew what he had to do. Jimmy was no stranger to hard work, having been raised by a dock worker and a seamstress. On several occasions he had accompanied his father to the docks in the dark of the early morning. At times, he’d come back in the late afternoon, to watch the ships come in and help his father unload the catch of the day. As soon as he was old enough, Jimmy had started working at the paper, and although he believed he was destined for greater things, hard work was all he knew. Even so, he knew he’d have to work harder than he’d ever worked to win the week-long visit to Mr. Hearst’s castle on the coast.

Jimmy was up each morning before dawn, and was the first paperboy to arrive at the truck every morning to get his stack of papers. He would practically run to his street corner where he’d hassle every businessman to buy a copy until the whole stack was gone. He’d made a game of seeing how quickly he could unload his first stack of papers and sprint back to the distribution truck for a second stack. He knew that if he could get to the right corner by 7:30 sharp, the truck would be only a block away, but even a minute later and the truck would drive to its next stop on the route, which was much further away. It wouldn’t come anywhere near Jimmy’s corner again for another hour, and then he would miss his best sales window. You see, between 7:40 and 8:00 in the morning, businessmen were hurrying to their jobs downtown. If Jimmy bugged them enough, they would buy a paper just to get him out of their way so they weren’t late for work.

So every day, Jimmy would sell his first stack of papers, meet the truck at 7:30, and hurry back to his assigned corner where he would sell his second stack to those who tried to pass by. By 8:15, things would slow down, and he would usually be able to sell his few remaining papers to the rich, retired men and women who were out for their morning stroll. These folks were always friendly to Jimmy - he was their connection to the lower class, and they felt good about themselves for knowing some of those people. Jimmy always enjoyed the leisurely pace of this part of the morning, along with its very surface and meaningless - though entertaining - conversations.

Hello, there! Did you save us a paper today?

Why yes, sir - I have a special edition, right here! That couple over there offered me a thousand dollars for it, but I kept it special, just for you!

We knew that we could count on you, good man.

Absolutely. And I’ll have another paper for you tomorrow!

And so it went. Day after day. By the end of September, Jimmy had outsold all of the other paperboys for the Examiner by at least 10%.

And yet, Jimmy was still shocked when he, in early October, encountered a long, black automobile parked right next to the paper truck when he arrived for his first stack of the day. As he approached the truck, he couldn’t take his eyes off the car, which was the fanciest he’d ever seen. He barely even took notice when a tall, slender man stepped out of the passenger seat,