Page 83 of Chosen Path
“That all sounds great, but the last time I checked, Scandia Bluff doesn’t have a Buddhist temple,” Molly pointed out.
“No, but it does have three enormous, mostly empty churches. And a community full of people who could take care of one another if someone organized it for them.”
Molly sighed. “Bodhi, I have my hands full trying to run my medical practice single-handedly. I couldn’t possibly—”
“—But I could.” Hope’s eyes were bright with excitement. “I quit my job yesterday.”
“You did what?” Molly asked.
“After the emergency meeting, Mrs. Grant came up to me. She swore she didn’t know anything about my mom. And I believe her, I do. But she’s on the council—or at least she was. She said they’re talking about disbanding it entirely. Anyway, she may not have had anything to do with the killing, but she also discouraged me from putting together a local history program, remember? At a minimum, she protected the council. And I just can’t imagine spending every day with her, knowing that.”
“And you want to run a community center instead?” Molly asked carefully.
“Well, what I planned to do was organize your messy patient files and then put together a local history archive, but the archive can be part of the community center. Think about it, Molly. You could have a satellite clinic there. I’ll run a history program. We can have dance classes, cooking demonstrations, people can sign up to swap services. My mom had a butterfly garden at her house, I still take care of it. I could plant one in the big field behind the Methodist church. And did you know Frank’s fluent in Italian? He could offer a language class.”
Molly met Bodhi’s eyes over Hope’s shoulder. She quirked her mouth into a smile. “A community center, huh?”
“I took some grant-writing courses in undergrad,” Hope continued. “We could get funding, maybe.”
Bodhi interrupted her. “Look at the sky. You don’t want to miss it.”
They fell silent and watched the orange and pink bands brighten and spread, spilling over the mountain in waves of light. And then the sun itself rose, a glowing orb above the purple peak. The chattering birds greeted the morning with a song. And the women next to Bodhi sighed in unison, a contented sigh. His mind went to a poem he knew.
Someone in his sangha had written it in careful script on a brilliant yellow Tibetan prayer flag that fluttered over the garden:
Morning comes again,
Darkness fades,
I sing.
CHAPTERFORTY-ONE
Little Lotus Sangha
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Five weeks later
Bodhi weeded the vegetable garden. The late May sun was bright and warm on his shoulders as he squatted between the rows of curly-topped carrots and early lettuce and carefully pulled up the weeds that would steal their nutrients. He worked slowly, methodically, and silently.
From time to time, he would pause to raise his face to the sky or roll his shoulders and neck. The birds sang. The breeze blew. And Bodhi weeded.
He was on the third row when the kitchen door opened, and he heard his name. He turned to see Al Kayser waving to him from the doorway. He drove the trowel into the earth to mark his place before standing and greeting Al.
They sat at the small table where they’d first talked about Scandia Bluff and drank tall glasses of cold, tart lemonade. After a while, Al said, “I heard from Molly.”
“How are things?” He’d exchanged some emails with Molly and with Hope in the first days after he’d left Scandia Bluff. But they were busy, and life moved on.
“Things are good. She and Hope are getting ready to officially open the Laura Gardener Community Space. Rachel and I are flying up there next weekend for the big day.”
Bodhi smiled. “They worked fast.”
“According to Molly, Hope took the lead and just whipped everything into shape. She sounds like an energetic woman.”
“And enthusiastic,” Bodhi agreed.
“I’m glad Molly’s found someone.” Al reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim sealed envelope. “She mailed this to me and asked me to give it to you. Didn’t want to scan it, says Doc Larson’s handwriting is even less legible when she tries to digitize it.”
