At that moment he gets up and soon the chatter stops and the room turns quiet. The women set each table with bowls of soup, platters with sandwiches, pastries, and a wide variety of fresh fruit. He lifts his hands shoulder high and casts his gaze around the room. Then he blesses the food and includes Scott and me in his blessing.
Soon the room is brimming with chatter again as people eat their lunch. I must say, the spread is amazing and tastes delicious. Ray fills our cups with coffee and points to the children lining up on a small stage.
“The show begins. They are performing Peter and the wolf today.”
“You have a theater group? That’s amazing.”
“No, not a specific group. Everyone takes part in our performances either as actor, singer, or working backstage on costumes and props. The kids read the book at school and then they write the script. We put on one of these a month, often enough to give everyone a turn. You are lucky you came today.”
Raymond offers me a small bowl of chocolates. “Take one, we make them here on site. They are delicious with coffee.”
I take a piece of chocolate and stare at the beautiful performance of the children. I even spot Rena sitting on a tree branch tweeting like a little bird.
“Scottie, try one of these.” I point to the chocolates. “They are delicious.”
While we are finishing our meal with coffee and chocolates, I forget my surroundings and get lost in the beautiful performance on stage. Even when the tree topples over as Wolf climbs it to catch the bird it takes nothing away from the captivating performance. After each song, I join the parents showering applause on the young artists.
“They are brilliant.” Scott’s eyes are glued to the stage where now another group of children performs a ballet to songs the younger children are singing. He loves children.
I am blown away by the talent and the atmosphere of ease and enjoyment. I turn to our host.
“This is wonderful Ray. I don’t have words to express how impressed I am. The kids are amazing.”
For a while we engage in lively conversation with other community members at the table and a lot of rushing to and fro is happening as the children reunite with their parents.
It’s getting hot inside the hall. It could be it the food, or the coffee, or the activity in the hall, but after a short while tiny rivulets of sweat are dripping down my back. I feel a bit off-color. For someone who lived isolated most of her life, this onslaught of people and conversations seems to be taking a lot out of me.
I’m sure I should blame Lilly for stuffing herself with too many chocolates. I glance over to Scott who is having a lively conversation with his neighbor. He too seems to have trouble breathing.
“I’m very hot, I’m going outside for some fresh air.”
“I’ll come with you. Fresh air is a great idea,” Scott says and gets up.
Raymond looks concerned. “We should say goodbye to the boys and girls here and continue our tour. There is so much more to see.”
When I stand up from my seat I sway and have to hold on to the chair. I’m usually not sensitive to heat. Maybe it has to do with our integration? Miss Marple warned us that it’s difficult to predict what sort of impact it would have on us.
It’s impossible to leave the hall without everybody noticing our departure. Plenty of smiles and good-bye-waves accompany us on our way out.
We stand outside under the large canopy when Scott takes a deep breath, holds his head, and—folding up like an accordion—tumbles to the ground. In shock, I stare at Scott. This can’t be happening. I rush to his side and hold his head.
“Scottie, darling, talk to me, what’s the matter?”
“I’m feeling very unwell and weak my love.” It’s the last I hear from him and then he lies motionless.
I look at Ray. “We need help.”
“Perhaps he is still suffering from the after-effects of the coma? Coming out here might have been too exhausting. Let me call our doctor. We have an infirmary, where he can lay down until he feels better before you go home.”
Raymond gets his cell phone out and with the punch of a few buttons, he calls for the ambulance and the doctor.
I’m holding Scott’s hand and wait with Raymond for the ambulance. It takes only minutes until it arrives and Scott is helped onto the gurney. Raymond and I sit next to him as the car drives to the infirmary while the doctor examines him.
“You have a very good organized service here.” I am so grateful for his presence. I can’t believe not long ago I would have frowned on the perfect set up at Gateways. Now it can’t be perfect enough for me.
“Yes, we’re always thinking about what we need to improve our self-sufficient status. We even assess the people who want to join us by their profession and what they can contribute to our small community.”
“Your husband will be fine and on his feet in no time, Ms. Seagar. I believe he simply fainted.”
The doctor speaks softly as he folds his stethoscope back into a bag and smiles at me.
That’s good news. I let out a sigh of relief. I don’t correct him on the husband-statement.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lilly: 20 March 2017, Early Afternoon, Gateway
I watch the doctor taking care of Scottie, ready to jump at him any moment if I detect even the slightest, the tiniest sign of mistreatment. But he’s doing a good enough job. His voice is soothing and his words… it’s hard to hear his words. My nausea and dizziness have returned. I pushed it aside when
