Bound for Home (Tyler Cunningham Shorts) Read Free Page A

missing stuff, but by now she trusted ( even if she didn’t understand ) the process. She was back a minute later and started reading through the articles, taking notes on them and on the maps I’d kept in the selection process. While Cynthia couldn’t replicate/understand my parlor tricks, she was on her way to becoming a top-notch research-librarian, and could process fantastic amounts of data into useful conclusions and questions for further study; our reading and thinking patterns were wonderfully complementary, and I appreciated her help on even minor jobs like this one ( the cherry on top was that she never asked why I needed to know, only what I needed to know ).
    “Report?” Cynthia asked.
    “Thanks Cyn, that would be great. Give me what you know, then what you think.” I answered ( wondering for a moment if she could feel my using a different name for her in my head than with my mouth, then wondering why I cared ).
    “The farmhouse at N44.4149 by W074.1739 sits in the middle of roughly 600 acre s of mixed woods and farmland. It had been in the McKinley family for over 100 years until its sale in 1999, when it was purchased by a faith-based 501-C-3 based somewhere on Long Island.” She paused for breath, and I cut in.
    “Not a church?” I asked.
    “Not exactly. The paperwork describes ‘Helgafell’ as a 'Gaian Preserve and Retreat', whatever that means.” I have admired Cynthia for her ability to emote while speaking since we first met. The disdain and sarcasm with which she said 'not-a-church' was palpable … even to me ( and I'm someone who often wishes for 'intent bubbles' over peoples' heads, clearly defining their feelings during conversations ).
    “I assume that it refers to J ames Lovelock’s ‘Gaia Theory’ … most likely ‘Gaia: A New Look at Life on Earth’, an interesting book presenting the metaphor that the entire Planet Earth is a single living organism. It’s a fascinating way to think about both global ecology and the nature of organisms, Cyn.” I answered her.
    “Whatever.” Cynthia harrumphed at me. “So they’re a Earth-church or commune or …”
    “Hip pies, like Maurice postulates … but with a twist ( thinking of the guard ) and a slick business plan that includes tax-exempt status.” I wasn’t looking at the papers in front of us anymore, I was starting to see the terrain of my investigation in my head … using the maps I’d scanned, the story Maurice had told me, and pictures my brain had taken while I’d been driving past the farm over the last seven months ( since moving to the area ). There were more holes than solid ground as yet, but I could feel the shape of it in my brain, and suddenly wanted to get out there to learn about it first-hand.
    “We’ve got time for me to dive back in for one more batch before I have to star t shutting down for the night. Gimme some keywords!” Cynthia was used to my patterns, and must have recognized the shift in my attention/focus/thoughts. Working with her was nice because I never had to explain ( anymore ) the whys and hows of my research methods.
    “That would be great , Cyn. I know everything about Lovelock and Gaia already … more on the parent company … where the money came from to buy the farm … ‘Helgafell’ is a mountain in Iceland, but I’m certain there’s more than that, so dig there a bit … I know nothing about communes/cults and the like, so some prep-work on that would be nice. Grab and print what you can before you need to close, I’ll read through the rest of this, and I’m buying all the crappy Chinese food that you can eat.”
    Cynthia and I often ate dinner together after working, taking turns buying, splitting the bill, or using separate checks as the mood took her ( I tended to follow her lead on dinners out, but often paid after a session without any advanced warning ). Recently, she’s been choosing my less favored Chinese restaurant in Saranac Lake ( Crappy Chinese, as opposed to