The Communing Tree

By Theresa Verboort and Amy Blumenstein Collen

It is 1979 and sixteen-year-old Judith’s survivalist father has never been so relaxed and cheerful since he returned from Vietnam with a debilitating case of PTSD. The eight years he and his family have spent hidden deep in the Kalmiopsis wilderness of Oregon have been good for him. Unfortunately none of them have any idea that disaster is about to strike.

While camping away from their cabin, Judith and her younger sister, Kali, witness the murder of their parents and older brother.Afraid of being tracked down by the killers, the girls escape to their family’s isolated cabin, occupied by their grandmother. As Judith cares for a now mute Kali, the girls struggle to survive, especially after their Gramma dies. Throughout their trials, they often find comfort under the special tree that shelters their grandmother’s grave. But when a secretive visitor brings them aid, only time will tell if they will uncover the identity of their guardian angel and find a way to return to the outside world—or be alone forever.

The Communing Tree is a novel about courage, persistence, and survival as two sisters are forced to face a perilous new life alone in the wilderness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jul 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9781532051487

Theresa Verboort

Theresa Verboort was born in Coos Bay, Oregon, and grew up in the southwestern coast during the fifties. She worked in forest fire lookouts in the summers to earn her way through college to achieve a bachelor of arts in English. Her first novel, The Communing Tree, inspired by the Kalmiopsis Wilderness of Oregon, won the prestigious WILLA Literary Award for best young adult fiction of 2019.A Sapling Grows continues the story. Stories, articles, and lookout photos are available at www.TheresaVWrites.com

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Copyright © 2018 Theresa Verboort.

Author Credits: Amy Blumenstein Collen

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Certain characters in this work are historical figures, and certain events portrayed did take place. However, this is a work of fiction. All of the other characters, names, and events as well as all places, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-5320-5149-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-5148-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018908571

iUniverse rev. date:  12/14/2018

Many thanks and deep appreciation for the loving and steadfast support of my husband, Richard, during the process of researching and writing this book. I also want to thank my dear friends Ann Garcia and Amy Collen, without whose encouragement and help it would never have been finished and published.

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CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1     When Johnny Comes Marching Home

Chapter 2     Pastor Roberts

Chapter 3     The Call

Chapter 4     The Search

Chapte 5r     The Ark

Chapter 6     First Kill

Chapter 7     Baby Kali

Chapter 8     The Homeward Trek

Chapter 9     Esther’s Decision

Chapter 10   Life Goes On

Chapter 11   Christmas

Chapter 12   Alone

Chapter 13   On Our Own

Chapter 14   Stranger in the Night

Chapter 15   A Mystery Solved

Chapter 16   Stranger No More

Chapter 17   A New Friend

Chapter 18   Survival, 1983

Chapter 19   Surprise Message

Chapter 20   Paul

Chapter 21   The Captive Patient

Chapter 22   Confusion

Chapter 23   A Message from Gramma

Chapter 24   Justice at Last

Chapter 25   A New Life

Questions And Topics For Discussion

About The Author

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PROLOGUE

Fire in the Night, 1979

S ometime before dawn I am suddenly wide awake. I lie there with my eyes closed, trying to understand the feeling of dread that’s flooding through me. What woke me up? Was it the haunting dream about the end times? I’ve suffered those before. I hate it when they come. It always takes a long time for me to shake them off. But now there’s something else I can’t quite pin down.

Did I hear something in my sleep? Outside the tent, Pepper, our little mongrel dog, lets out a soft whine. Perhaps that’s what disturbed me. I roll over in my sleeping bag and listen to the steady, deep breathing of my parents, older brother, David, and little sister, Kali. All is quiet.

I try to go back to sleep, but my mind won’t rest. I wish I were back in my snug bed at the Ark with Gramma. I could milk the goats and collect the eggs for her, help her with the chores. But no, they need me here. I think about the hard day we’ve all put in, harvesting and processing the crop. These weeks of tending the farm, as we call it, are usually tedious hard work. It’s one of the few things I hate about our life here. Besides the boring work, there’s the niggling feeling that there is something not right about what we’re doing.

I lie back and think about our lives here. I’m not sorry we’ve come into the wilderness. Dad has never been so relaxed and cheerful since he came back from Vietnam. He seems to thrive on the rugged lifestyle, the isolation. The eight years we’ve spent here have been good for him.

But why, in the last year or two, have I sometimes felt so restless and unsatisfied? Why these unbidden desires to see the outside world, to be with other people and see new places? What if Pastor Roberts was wrong? What if hiding out here is a big mistake? Mom and Dad are totally sure they’re right, but I’m not so sure. And why do I have this dark feeling that something is wrong?

I think about the discussion I overheard between Dad and Mama a few days ago when they thought I was out of earshot. Dad is worried about some man named Bryce. He said that Bryce is dangerous and unbalanced. This is the last crop I’m going to sell through the man. After that I don’t want to have anything more to do with him. He’s getting greedy and doesn’t want to pay what he owes me. Until we’re done with him, I’m wearing my revolver whenever we’re not sleeping. The thought of a dangerous man prowling around our woods scares me.

This has to be the last crop anyway, John, says my mom. You promised me we’d only do this until we saved up some money. We have enough. Let’s stop before someone gets hurt or put in jail.

Kali stirs in her sleeping bag, interrupting my reverie. She reaches out and shakes my arm. She whispers, Judy, I have to go pee.

Five-year-old Kali is the only one allowed to call me Judy. When I turned thirteen, I told the family that I wanted to be called Judith, thinking that the name Judy was for kids. But Kali never got the hang of it. That’s okay. She’s my favorite person in the whole world. In fact, we all adore her. She’s the baby of the family.

I say, Can’t you wait until daylight? It’s cold and dark, and I’m tired.

I have to go now, she whines. She sounds desperate.

Oh, all right, I say, sighing. I’m awake anyway, and it’s useless to put her off. I hate crawling out of the warm sleeping bag and leaving the snug tent to go stumbling out into the dark. Also, I’m a little afraid to go out in the woods at night. But I can’t wake my parents. They’ve put in a hard day, and they’re tired. Besides, I’m sixteen, too old to bother Mom.

Shivering, I fumble into my shoes and grab my coat. Put on your coat and shoes, I whisper. The day had been warm, but now it’s cold. I tie Kali’s shoes and help her put her coat on over her flannel pajamas, and then I feel around for a flashlight. I hesitate, then strap on my hunting knife. I never go into the woods without it. I grab Kali’s small, warm hand, and we slip noiselessly out of the tent.

Pepper jumps up when we walk out, giving a soft whine of acknowledgment. I grab his rope and bring him along. He trails along readily, the white patches of his coat faintly visible in the darkness. I feel better with the protective dog along. He may be small, but he’s a great watchdog and fiercely loyal to us.

The latrine is out of sight of the tent, down a narrow trail worn into the undergrowth by our feet. Dad is strict about us using it, whatever the time of day or night, for sanitation purposes. Not wanting to wake anyone else, I keep the flashlight aimed low to the ground until we’re away from the camp.

At five foot eight, I consider myself tall, but I feel small as I lead Kali through the lush looming ferns and secretive overhanging cedar trees. I’m careful to dodge the hole that some burrowing creature has made beside the trail. I remind myself to fill it up before somebody steps into it and gets hurt.

I inhale the sweet scent of the cedars and firs, my favorite fragrance. The light from the flashlight reflects the sparkle of the dew on the cedar branches. I feel sheltered by the towering shadowy trees. We reach the little tepee that Dad has built in a small area cleared of brush.

I wait while Kali takes her time on the rustic seat. She seems to take forever. Hurry up, I whisper. I’m freezing. Besides, I want to go too, as long as we’re here.

I notice Pepper staring back up the trail toward the camp, his floppy ears cocked. The white patches of his coat shift restlessly back and forth in the glow of the flashlight.

What’s the matter, boy? I ask softly. Do you hear something? He looks at me and lets out another soft whine. I pat his head. I’m nervous out here in the dark, knowing that cougars and bears sometimes range through the area. Also, Dad has regaled us with tales around the campfire about a legendary Vietnam Don, a crazy vet who nearly killed a man in a barroom brawl in Gold Beach. He escaped into the wilderness and has never been caught. Dad has kept our rapt attention with stories of Don’s wild ways. No one knows when or where he might pop up. I’m never quite sure whether Dad is just telling stories or whether Don really exists. I don’t want to run into a crazy man in the dark.

Kali finally finishes up, and I take my turn. I’m anxious to get back. Kali holds the flashlight patiently, oblivious to my tension. Just as we are about to head back, Pepper lets out a low growl. My hackles also rise. Quiet, boy, I snap. I stand still and listen. I hear nothing but the breeze in the treetops. Still, I feel a little shiver of fear wash down my back.

I grab Kali’s hand, Pepper’s rope, and the flashlight and head back up the trail. My heart has sped up. Pepper whines and growls again. He is trotting up the trail ahead of us, pulling on the rope. I twist it around my wrist and hold him back.

We are almost back to the clearing at camp when the dog begins snarling and barking viciously. Just then, the night is pierced by bright lights suddenly reflecting on the front of the tent where our parents and David are sleeping. Pepper is now frantically snarling and scrambling toward the intruders.

Down, I hiss to Kali as we crouch behind the brush. Quiet, I snap at Pepper. I cinch the rope tightly around my fist and rein in Pepper using a vise grip, simultaneously dousing the flashlight. A flash of light flies in our direction and veers off.

I squat there, holding the dog’s muzzle and commanding him to remain silent. He’s struggling against me, and I’m thinking I may not be able to hold him. I don’t understand what’s happening, but I’m very afraid. My pulse is racing as I strain to hear. Kali huddles beside me, clutching both the dog and me.

Who is it? What d’ you want? It’s my father’s voice.

A deep, rough voice shouts, It’s Bryce. We need to talk.

In the middle of the night?

Right now. Come on out.

I’m shivering, trying to understand what’s happening.

Just a minute. Let me get dressed. I’m coming out. An eternity goes by as we wait. Then Dad comes through the front flap. He has something in his hand. The men talk back and forth until Dad raises his gun. Then—chaos! The night explodes with gunfire. Dad stumbles, fires, and falls. But he has managed to put a bullet into one of the men, who yells and falls down. Out of sight, Stubborn, our mule, brays loudly.

Kali shrieks. I bite my lip and clamp one of my hands over her mouth, while trying to restrain the dog with the other. Mama screams at the same time, and David yells, Dad!

As we watch in horror, Mama dashes out of the tent, shrieking, John! There’s more gunfire. She falls down over Dad’s body. David shouts, Mom! and leaps out after her. More shooting. I’m gasping as he drops his rifle and falls back, collapsing into the tent.

Pepper roars and lunges forward, but I have a paralyzed death grip on his rope. I grab his muzzle, hiss, Shut up, and smack him across the snout. He keeps snarling and growling in his throat. Kali clings to me, frozen in fear. I am too stunned to move. I clutch the dog and Kali, my stomach churning, my heart pounding so hard that I can hear it beating in my ears.

Someone goes into the tent and shouts, This one’s dead. But there should be two more of ’em. There’s two extra sleeping bags here.

Someone shouts, Spread out and find ’em. I heard a dog out there.

A light flashes in our direction, and we flatten on the ground. I don’t know what to do. I’m trembling uncontrollably in terror, but through my fear comes the instinct to run and hide. When the light moves on, I grab Kali and the dog and race back deep into the woods.

Pepper, snarling and growling, keeps trying to turn back, but I won’t let him. I consider letting him go, but I can’t lose any more of my family. I keep catching glimpses of light reflecting on the bushes, and I hear the men shouting back and forth amid sporadic gunfire as they crash through the brush. I hear a scream as one of them apparently trips over something.

The sounds fade as we tear deeper into the forest despite the steep terrain. We stumble through the darkness, branches catching our clothes, roots grabbing our feet, too afraid to stop and listen for our pursuers.

Pepper finally realizes the need to flee and runs along with us. When Kali can’t run anymore, I pick her up and carry her. I’m so charged with fear that I hardly feel her weight. I keep the flashlight beamed down on the ground to make it less visible to the men chasing us. After spending years exploring these woods, I know a good place to hide.

At long last, we stop. I’m gasping for breath, listening. I hear nothing but the mysterious cracklings and rustlings of the forest and one faint echo of a gunshot far off in the distance. I turn the flashlight up and look around. We’re deep in the woods. I start a frantic search for the huge stump that is my place of refuge. It takes me a long time to get my bearings, and I’m starting to panic. The flashlight beam finally falls across a gigantic nurse log that’s lying in the brush on the steep slope. Its covering of moss, ferns, and young trees makes it almost invisible. The stump is near the base of the broken tree. I check to be sure it’s empty of wildlife and scorpions, and then I crawl in, pulling a limp Kali and Pepper behind me.

Now I’m glad I spent all those hours enlarging the hollow in the stump into my own private little retreat. It’s dry and sheltered here, and they’ll never find us.

I huddle down with Kali in my lap and Pepper curled up against us. I try to catch my breath, weak from exhaustion and shock. My mind races frantically, trying to make sense of it. Who are those people? Why would they shoot my family? Are they all dead? Dead? Oh God, oh God, oh God! What do they want? What’re we going to do? Help us please, God! Mama! Daddy! David! I pause, my mind whirling. And what about Gramma? There’s no way they can know about her. I know Daddy would never have mentioned where our home is. And he would never have talked about our family with the pot dealers. No, she has to be safe at the Ark. They must have tracked Dad back to the farm after his last trip in to sell the crop. Oh God!

I sit there holding the sobbing Kali in my arms. What a horrible thing for her to see. I hold her close, a fierce wave of protectiveness overwhelming me. I’m crying too, and trembling, moaning, and rocking back and forth. My stomach is quaking as the horror of it sets in. What will I do? I want my parents and my brother. I want this never to have happened. Pepper whines and snuggles up against us, a small, warm, solid presence in a world suddenly gone insane. I hold Kali tightly, tears sliding down my face, and wait for dawn.

The night seems to last a lifetime. I almost doze off once, overcome by exhaustion, only to jerk awake again, confused and wondering where I am. The night’s events come back to me like a blow to my brain.

I scan the opening of our shelter, praying for daylight. Waiting in anguish for the sun to come up, I shift my stiff, numb body while cuddling Kali, who appears to have fallen into a fitful sleep. She automatically clutches my arm.

Finally, the darkness begins to soften, slowly turning to pale gray. I wait until I can see in the dim light. I have to go back, when I can see in the daylight. I have to know what has happened to my family. Maybe they aren’t really dead. I’m afraid to take Kali and the dog, but they can’t stay here either. I’ll have to bring them with me. I decide I’ll hide them along the way when we’re nearer the camp while I go and check out what’s happened. Dawn has come, and it’s time to go, whether we want to or not.

I wake Kali and we crawl stiffly out of our warm nest. It’s cold, and my foot’s asleep, as is the arm I had wrapped around Kali. We stomp our feet and flap our arms to get the circulation going. We slowly head back to camp, Kali clinging to me and shivering.

These woods are home to me. I know the forest’s landmarks. There’s little undergrowth here under the old-growth trees, so it’s easy walking in spite of the steepness of the terrain. We step noiselessly on the soft duff underfoot.

When we get fairly close to camp, I pick a secluded spot and sit Kali down and tie Pepper to a small alder. You have to stay here and be very quiet, I tell Kali. I have to see what’s going on. You’ll be safe here. We’ll go home to the Ark after I check out what’s happened.

Kali firmly shakes her head no and jumps up, grabbing me. She’s crying again, gulping down her ragged sobs. I kneel beside her. I’ll be right back. I just have to see. I have to see what happened to Mama and Daddy and David. Then I’ll come right back for you. Besides, I need you to stay here and keep Pepper quiet. I’m trying to keep the desperation out of my voice.

Kali will not be swayed. She is shaking her head wildly, terror in her eyes, clinging to me. And she isn’t going to stay here, that’s for sure. I sigh heavily. All right, I give up. You can come. But you have to be very quiet, not make a sound. If you do, they might catch us. They might kill us. You understand?

She nods her head, her eyes wide and full of fear, and hangs on to me for dear life. We head on to the camp, leaving Pepper behind. He whimpers and begins to whine. I walk back to him and snap, Quiet, smacking him on his snout. I’ve never hit him before this night and feel rotten about it, but I’m desperate. He finally lies down with a whimper, his head on his paws, looking at me reproachfully as we leave.

Quiet as moles, we creep over the soft moss and detritus of the forest floor to a little hollow near the camp. A heavy screen of brush surrounds it. Here is a place where we can see without being seen. Kali huddles against me, silent, wide-eyed.

Across the clearing, four men are sitting in front of the tattered tent. One of them has something wrapped around his thigh that is blotched with red. He must be the one Dad shot. I can’t make out what they’re saying. The wounded one watches while the others go to work. They haul three sleeping bags, heavy with what has to be the bodies of my family, off to a shallow pit they have already dug. I almost cry out as they toss them into the hole like so much garbage. Shivering, I gulp down my sobs at the sight. Then they cover the bodies with dirt and pile some brush on top. They must be afraid that circling buzzards might draw the rangers’ attention to the spot. I see them pack David’s rifle and Dad’s pistol onto one of the two packhorses they’ve brought in. They tear down the tent and pile brush on top. They don’t dare burn it during fire season. Then they proceed to pack up all the carefully packaged pot we have so laboriously nurtured and processed onto one of the horses and our family mule, Stubborn. We had brought