bathrobes, so we added a private hallway from each
floor to the showers. Some of the bathrobes were really
interesting. Marge still has nightmares about one guest.
“We have a three thousand gallon wooden water
tank perched on the roof of the kitchen for showers and cleaning.
That is sometimes a sore point around here. The tank has to be
filled by hand from fifty-gallon barrels filled by hand at the
lake, and then brought here on a horse-drawn wagon. The guests love
it but the staff hates it. Two or three times a day, we put out a
call for help. We often have thirty guests rushing to grab a wooden
pail.
“We salvaged an industrial water boiler from
1824 that heats all of our water. And all the water pipes are
actually made of cast and fired clay from England. How AP found the
plumbing, I have no idea. And he isn’t telling.”
John paused and then continued. “I know that
Jill would have loved this place.”
John checked the time on his cell phone and
then turned back to Ryce. “The memorial starts in thirty minutes in
the Pavilion. That’s the really big covered structure behind me
with all the artisan booths.”
As Tanya and Ryce slowly walked hand-in-hand
through the Sanctuary, he marveled at what John had created. On the
right of the Pavilion were several Army-style wall tents set on
wood floors. Ryce could see a sign hanging from the ridgepole of
each tent. The people crafting the signs had a wonderful time. The
permitted occupants for one tent included seven humans, six dogs,
three cats, and one horse. Ryce wondered where the horse was going
to sleep.
On the opposite end of the Pavilion, Ryce
could see more than a dozen wood-frame cottages. According to the
map painted on the wall of the hotel, these were three and four
bedroom family cottages. Ryce made a mental note to find out if
they had any vacancies in any of the housing areas of the
Sanctuary. Tanya had a birthday coming soon.
Ryce grimaced. How soon? He flipped open his
smart phone, and checked a file labeled “Things I’d Better Not
Forget.” He was safe. Tanya’s birthday was in two months. A
reservation for even a weekend at the Sanctuary would be an
excellent birthday gift.
Precisely at 2:16 PM, John led the group down
a wandering path to the cemetery. Ramona walked next to Ryce and
Tanya.
“Jill was killed at 2:16 PM. Each year on the
anniversary of her death, John celebrates her life.”
Tanya started to ask how Jill had died, but
they had arrived at the cemetery.
Jill had been laid to rest in a small grove
of trees overlooking the lake. She had a simple, hand-carved wooden
marker with her name, the date she was born, and the time and date
she died. The closing line on the marker read, “A loving wife and
friend. You are missed.”
After the Sanctuary was opened for business,
someone had asked why a shrine had been built to Jill when she was
still in Monroe, WA. A week later, John moved Jill’s coffin to what
had soon become known as Jill’s Grove.
Seventeen additional grave markers now dotted
the clearing, and more than fifty urns were attached to trees
nearby. Ryce smiled when he saw that most of the urns were the
ashes of beloved pets. However, two urns contained a couple who
wanted to be remembered together. Ryce scribbled a mental note.
This was where he wanted to be remembered.
The ceremony was simple. After several family
members recalled what Jill had meant to them, John walked to the
marker. He was holding the hand of a young girl who was carrying a
bouquet of flowers almost as big as she was.
“All of you who knew Jill also know that her
best friend was Marge. When Jill died, I took a three-year vacation
from reality. Marge was the one who brought me back. The beautiful
young lady at my side is also named Jill. She is our daughter. She
will allow the name to continue. Jill, you are missed.”
When John completed his part of the ceremony,
Jill stepped over to the marker. She gently placed the flowers in a
wooden vase,
floor to the showers. Some of the bathrobes were really
interesting. Marge still has nightmares about one guest.
“We have a three thousand gallon wooden water
tank perched on the roof of the kitchen for showers and cleaning.
That is sometimes a sore point around here. The tank has to be
filled by hand from fifty-gallon barrels filled by hand at the
lake, and then brought here on a horse-drawn wagon. The guests love
it but the staff hates it. Two or three times a day, we put out a
call for help. We often have thirty guests rushing to grab a wooden
pail.
“We salvaged an industrial water boiler from
1824 that heats all of our water. And all the water pipes are
actually made of cast and fired clay from England. How AP found the
plumbing, I have no idea. And he isn’t telling.”
John paused and then continued. “I know that
Jill would have loved this place.”
John checked the time on his cell phone and
then turned back to Ryce. “The memorial starts in thirty minutes in
the Pavilion. That’s the really big covered structure behind me
with all the artisan booths.”
As Tanya and Ryce slowly walked hand-in-hand
through the Sanctuary, he marveled at what John had created. On the
right of the Pavilion were several Army-style wall tents set on
wood floors. Ryce could see a sign hanging from the ridgepole of
each tent. The people crafting the signs had a wonderful time. The
permitted occupants for one tent included seven humans, six dogs,
three cats, and one horse. Ryce wondered where the horse was going
to sleep.
On the opposite end of the Pavilion, Ryce
could see more than a dozen wood-frame cottages. According to the
map painted on the wall of the hotel, these were three and four
bedroom family cottages. Ryce made a mental note to find out if
they had any vacancies in any of the housing areas of the
Sanctuary. Tanya had a birthday coming soon.
Ryce grimaced. How soon? He flipped open his
smart phone, and checked a file labeled “Things I’d Better Not
Forget.” He was safe. Tanya’s birthday was in two months. A
reservation for even a weekend at the Sanctuary would be an
excellent birthday gift.
Precisely at 2:16 PM, John led the group down
a wandering path to the cemetery. Ramona walked next to Ryce and
Tanya.
“Jill was killed at 2:16 PM. Each year on the
anniversary of her death, John celebrates her life.”
Tanya started to ask how Jill had died, but
they had arrived at the cemetery.
Jill had been laid to rest in a small grove
of trees overlooking the lake. She had a simple, hand-carved wooden
marker with her name, the date she was born, and the time and date
she died. The closing line on the marker read, “A loving wife and
friend. You are missed.”
After the Sanctuary was opened for business,
someone had asked why a shrine had been built to Jill when she was
still in Monroe, WA. A week later, John moved Jill’s coffin to what
had soon become known as Jill’s Grove.
Seventeen additional grave markers now dotted
the clearing, and more than fifty urns were attached to trees
nearby. Ryce smiled when he saw that most of the urns were the
ashes of beloved pets. However, two urns contained a couple who
wanted to be remembered together. Ryce scribbled a mental note.
This was where he wanted to be remembered.
The ceremony was simple. After several family
members recalled what Jill had meant to them, John walked to the
marker. He was holding the hand of a young girl who was carrying a
bouquet of flowers almost as big as she was.
“All of you who knew Jill also know that her
best friend was Marge. When Jill died, I took a three-year vacation
from reality. Marge was the one who brought me back. The beautiful
young lady at my side is also named Jill. She is our daughter. She
will allow the name to continue. Jill, you are missed.”
When John completed his part of the ceremony,
Jill stepped over to the marker. She gently placed the flowers in a
wooden vase,
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