When Rusty went to work I was bored stiff. I had chores I could do but I had no interest in doing them. My energy level was unpredictable. I never knew when I started a job if I’d be able to finish it. I paced the house wishing I could do more, then I’d start a job only to have to quit in the middle of it. Rusty came home to cold mop buckets in the kitchen, half sorted laundry, half the dishes washed. He always sighed and tracked me down. Usually he found me asleep on the old, brown couch, sometimes in the bay window watching the birds or the deer. I was lonely. I needed to get out. I felt useless, and I still felt incomplete somehow.
“You don’t have to do all these jobs you start,” Rusty told me over Chinese takeout. “The world will not end if you don’t mop the kitchen floor.”
“I don’t do it to clean the floor. I do it to see if I can. And then I can’t and I feel worse.”
“Just say no. When you’re tempted to work, just say no.”
“I’m bored to tears.”
“That maybe we can fix.”
Rusty’s way of fixing my boredom was to send friends to visit. Every day someone new was at my door. First it was Kelly. When Kelly came I opened the door wide.
“Hey there, Trouble! Long time no see!” he said.
“I’ve been out of commission,” I complained.
“What in the world could put you out of commission?” he asked knowing I bounced back from everything life threw at me.
“Will you walk with me?” I almost cried. “I haven’t been out of the house for weeks. I can’t walk far but it would help if I just got out.”
“Sure,” Kelly said.
“Don’t answer so quick,” I said pocketing my 9mm. I went to the bedroom and came out with Rusty’s rifle. I handed it to Kelly. He looked at the rifle, then at me. “Do you still want to go?” I asked.
“Yeah, but I want the story as we go.”
So I started talking as we walked up into the junipers, but I didn’t get very far. Pretty soon I was winded from walking.
“I have to get stronger,” I gasped. “I need to be ready for anything and right now I can’t even walk a half mile. I want to track. I want to hike into the mountains. I want to sit under a tree and let squirrels take nuts out of my hand. The mountains are calling to me and I don’t have the strength to go.”
“What did this to you?” Kelly asked.
“I went on a search with Landon…” The words caught in my throat but I tried to keep going. “I didn’t know I was pregnant. The thought never even entered my mind.” I paused, unsure how to explain it to a man. “I started having problems on the trail and I pushed myself until I found my missing person. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have stopped and told Landon what was going on. He would have done something sooner but I didn’t know. I had no idea how serious it was. I just knew I had a person to find and I was in pain. I can deal with pain. I can deal with things on the trail. So I dealt with that, until I collapsed.” I couldn’t walk anymore. I sat down on the ground for a rest. “Do you know what a tubal pregnancy is?”
He nodded.
“That’s what it was. It ruptured on the trail. And I pushed myself until I’d nearly bled to death. But, Kelly, I don’t think that’s why it’s been so hard. I can’t figure it out. Something’s gone. Something I can’t get back. And it’s gone for Rusty, too. He’s had a hard time dealing with this. He mourns for his little boy. It’s all my fault and there’s nothing I can do to make it right. And that’s what makes it rough. He tries to keep things upbeat, but he is so sad. I know seeing me well again would help him but I can’t. I can’t do anything. I try and I try and everything beats me.”
Usually a joker, Kelly was taken aback; he didn’t have a joke for this.
“Rusty didn’t tell me all this. He just said you could use a visit. All that doesn’t explain the rifle, though. Why are we armed?”
“Because I’ve got a lunatic stalker after me. He blames me because he survived a bout of trouble and everything’s gone wrong since then. And it has. He isn’t the same person as he was before the explosion. He is bent and acts like he is in pain. He lost his wife and his job. The explosion was his fault but he blames me for his present circumstances. When the explosion happened he was buried under a mound of dirt. He wants revenge and the only way he is going to get it is to see me squirm. Since he was buried and couldn’t breathe he seems fixated on making me feel the same way. When I was in the hospital he disguised himself as a nurse, snuck in and removed the respirator tube from me. He wanted to watch me fight for breath, but when he took the tube out the machine started beeping, and the nurses came running. That was the second time he tried to kill me. So that’s why we’re armed and that’s why I don’t go out alone. I don’t think I could take him on like this.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Yeah, give me a hand up.”
He got up and held out his hand. I was ashamed I had to use it. When I stood up I had to wait a bit before walking again. I looked at the hills. The hills would have to wait another day. When we turned around I realized we hadn’t even gotten out of sight of the house. On the way back some coyote tracks caught my eye and I slipped into tracking mode until I got winded again. I stopped and looked around and Kelly just grinned at me.
“Now that was good to see,” he said. “You didn’t even know you did that, did you?”
“No, I thought I was going home.”
“You walked farther tracking than you did hiking. Are you going to follow the dog?”
“It’s a coyote, and no, I’d never catch him. They can see me coming from a mile away. I’ve tried before.”
“How do you know it’s a coyote?”
“Placement, size, the relative size of the toes, the way it travels. Coyotes trot everywhere. A dog walks, trots, wanders, stops. Dogs get distracted easily. Coyotes are more focused. Come on, I need to sit again. Gee, I hate this. Thanks for coming with me. I was going stir crazy in the house.”
“I’m glad I came.”
“Can I get you something?” I asked when we got back.
“No, but you can sit while I find something.”
“It’s a deal. Iced tea.”
I fell asleep as he made his way around the kitchen. He waited patiently while I napped. He was sitting in a chair close by reading a book when I woke up. My iced tea was in front of me, on a coaster. The ice had melted.
“I didn’t want to just disappear on you,” he explained.
“I’m sorry. You could have woken me up.”
“You needed the rest.”
Next was Strict. He knew all the background. He was more concerned about when I would be able to track.
“I don’t know, Lou, right now it feels like forever. Come walk with me. It helps to get out.”
So once again I headed out into the hills. When I got winded he stopped me.
“Cassidy, you’re pushing too hard.”
“I have to. Look… we haven’t even gone a quarter of a mile.”
“Still, you’re pushing too hard.”
“How am I going to build back up if I can’t push myself?”
“Slowly, kid. You’re the only one pushing. We’re all just sitting back hoping you don’t go too far.”
Strict wasn’t helping. I went home more frustrated than I was before.
When Rusty came home I asked to go to town. I wanted a jab at the punching bag. I knew I’d only last about two minutes but I was going nuts.
“Cassidy, stop, babe. Please. What’s eating at you?”
The bag swung back hitting me full in the face. Down I went.
“You distracted me,” I said struggling to get up. “Damn it, there’s got be something I can do. I can’t walk. I can’t do housework. I can’t do anything.”
“Just wait until tomorrow. I’ve got a surprise for you tomorrow. Today you can go out to dinner with me.”
“Do I look as bad as I feel?”
“You’re beautiful.”
“Yeah, right.”
It was good to be out in the busyness of a restaurant but even that was wearing to me. I tried to be happy and upbeat but I fell asleep on the way home and woke up in bed with the sun shining through the windows.
Rusty was right about tomorrow’s surprise. My sister, Jesse, was the last person I expected at my door. Jesse took one look at me and wilted.
“Cass, I never thought I’d see you like this. I know Mom said it was bad but it’s been weeks!”
“I know.”
“I shouldn’t have brought the kids.”
“You brought the kids? That’s great! Where are they?”
I looked outside and both boys had their faces plastered against the truck window. Wyatt was impatiently anxious and Patrick was hanging back. He seemed to know, this wasn’t going to be a tracking visit. He looked older than his seven years, like he was trying to be strong through the worry. I was his Aunt Cassidy. Nothing could get Aunt Cassidy down. I walked out to the truck and opened the door.
“If you see bad guys in the backyard call the police from inside the house,” I admonished Patrick. He looked sheepish but I was serious. “Thank you for the reminder book. You remembered Rusty’s reminder books, didn’t you?”
“If it works for Uncle Rusty I thought it would work for you, too,” Patrick said.
“It helped a lot. I still have it. I’ll keep it always.”
“You’re sure this is okay?” Jesse asked.
“I haven’t been cooking. If you can live with whatever Rusty brings home it’s the best thing that could have happened.”
She unloaded the truck putting toys in the den, suitcases in the guestroom.
“Do the deer still come every day?” Patrick asked.
“Not every day, but frequently. I haven’t seen the mountain lion again so it should be safe.”
“Do the Stellars jays still come to your house?”
“If we put out peanuts. I haven’t fed them for a few weeks. How long are you staying?”
“I don’t know, it depends on how long you can stand us,” Jesse said. “I told Rusty we could stay four days but if it’s too much for you we’ll go home earlier.”
“No! You can’t do that. Rusty really needs time with the boys.”
And boy, did he. He knew what was waiting for him at home. He got off from work early. Rushing into the house, he hugged those boys until they squirmed to get loose. I was a little worried that having the boys here would make Rusty miss Trevor even more, but he dove into it with more joy than I’d seen in weeks.
“Wyatt, have you ever ridden in a police car?” Rusty asked over pizza.
He remembered Patrick’s list of preferred kid food and brought home pizzas. Pepperoni for the boys. Hawaiian for me. And all meat for him. Jesse had a little of each.
“Do I hafta go to jail?” Wyatt asked.
“Uncle Rusty wouldn’t let them put you in jail,” Patrick assured him. “Even when we almost got arrested he didn’t let them put us in jail.” Then he figured out that he’d said too much and zipped his lips.
Rusty had planned the four days well. Friday morning he took the boys with him to work. I doubt he got anything done. He probably took the whole day off. They got to ride in a police car and he gave them a choice of the toy cars in his desk drawer. Wyatt brought home one of Rusty’s reminder books to color in.
“So that’s where you got that idea,” Jesse told Patrick.
Pat showed his mom Rusty’s reminder book. “Uncle Rusty has kids in his office and sometimes they need something to do, so he lets them color these books so he can remember each kid. Some of the kids don’t have moms or dads, and some of them have had bad things happen to them. He looks at these books when he gets discouraged and then he goes out to catch bad guys again so kids don’t have to hurt like that.”
I got a lump in my throat hearing it summed up like that. Why did Patrick always do that to me, reading into a simple coloring book what was in Rusty’s head?
While the boys were with Rusty, Jesse took me shopping. It was what Jesse did best. She had instructions from mom to buy what we needed. We didn’t need anything so she stretched the instructions to include anything I liked. That was mom. She loved spending money on her girls. I had to be careful when I shopped with her. I gave myself a limit even though she never placed one on me.
My phone rang while we were shopping. “Make sure Jesse and the boys brought swimsuits,” Rusty said. Swimsuits?
“Okay. Do we have plans?”
“Yeah, we’re going to the beach tomorrow. Patrick can track and swimming will be good for you. Wyatt can build sand castles and Jesse can watch the guys.”
“Rusty!”
“Well, am I right?”
“Okay, yeah, you’re right.”
We shopped for swimsuits. I didn’t buy one because I had too many. Too often Rusty and I found ourselves at the beach on an unplanned trip and bought a new one. Jesse just liked shopping, so she shopped for a new swimsuit.
“This makes me look like a watermelon,” she complained.
“Maybe something without green vertical stripes would be better,” I conceded.
“Here try this on,” she said.
“I’m not buying it,” I told her. “I’ve got enough.”
“It can’t hurt to try it on.”
When I tried it on she sniffed at me, “It’s no fair. You take anything off the rack and put it on and you look like a model for it. I look and look and end up thinking of myself as a watermelon.”
“Try red Hawaiian flowers instead of green stripes.”
“Now I look like a spoiled tomato.”
“Are you hungry? You keep comparing yourself to food.”
“No, food is just what makes me not like swimsuits.”
“Not spoiled tomatoes. If you brought one, why look for another?”
“Because mine makes me look like a Thanksgiving turkey.”
I laughed. “Okay, here’s my method. Stay in the dressing room and I’ll bring you one of each. Make three piles: a yes, a maybe, and a no pile. When I come with more swimsuits hand me the no pile and we’ll just go through the whole bunch.”
“That’s your shopping method?”
“Usually, well for things I’m not used to buying. Jeans and tops I can just buy a five or seven but dresses and swimsuits and stuff like that I use this method.”
Jesse tried on every swimsuit in the store in her size and her yes pile was very small. She tried on the two she thought she liked best and I chose the one I thought James would like and she chose the other one because she thought it was more like what a mom would wear to the beach.
“Who cares what a mom would wear? Just because you’re a mom doesn’t mean you suddenly quit being a sex goddess.”
“Cassidy! Maybe you could wear a sexy swimsuit. You’ve got the body for it. I could never…”
“You like them both. So would you rather look like a mom at the beach or like a woman having a great time at the beach?”
“Cassidy, I swear. Mom would never approve of this.”
“When do you go to the beach with Mom?”
She held up the two swimsuits she looked at one with a grumpy expression and went hmm. She looked at the other one with raised eyebrows and went HMM. I laughed. It felt good to laugh.
I had to stop after each store. Even walking a store wore me out. I sat down outside a department store while Jesse made the rounds of the perfume counter. I watched the people like I always did, watching them make invisible footprints, watching for the odd man out. Anybody acting strangely. Invisible tracking.
No shoplifters in my corridor today. No purse-snatchers. Only, oh hell. I looked away, thought for a minute, nervously. I shouldn’t be by myself. There’s safety in numbers, especially when I felt like this. I pretended not to notice Dirk standing behind a pillar watching me. I wandered into the store, found Jesse, and then asked the woman at the counter to call security. I watched the pillar out of the corner of my eye. When a uniform approached I explained there was a man wanted for attempted murder, last seen behind the pillar.
“He’s tall and bent. Wearing jeans, a long sleeve shirt. Blue. He’s got dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, light brown leather deck shoes. Wear point on the tip of his left shoe and the inside of both heels. He’s carrying a bag and may be armed.”
They looked at me weird when I described the bottoms of his shoes.
“I’m a tracker. I know how the guy walks. I know where those wear spots are.”
“Yeah, right,” they said to themselves as they wandered toward the pillar. When Dirk wasn’t there anymore they made their way down the mall watching for a man like I had described.
“Shoot,” I said. “I thought I’d gotten lucky.” Then to Jesse, “We’d better go.”
“Why? We’re just getting started!”
“No we’re not. We need to leave this place and when we leave you’ll follow my instructions to the letter.”
“Why?”
“Because we might be followed and if we’re followed I want you to know what to do. If we’re not followed, we can go to another store. I want to get molds for building sandcastles. Do you surf?”
“Ha! Me surf? I barely ride a horse anymore. Do you?”
“I’m learning. I don’t actually surf yet. I mostly stay out of the way of the real surfers and try to read the waves right. It takes practice. Cody is teaching me when we go to San Diego, but I try his patience.”
“You are the luckiest girl in the state,” she sighed. “Being married to Rusty and having Cody for a brother-in-law. I can’t wait to go to the beach. I’ve never seen Rusty in swim trunks before!”
“Jesse!”
“What? You don’t like me watching your husband? Everybody else at the beach is watching him.”
“I guess I’m just surprised you admit it. Okay, I’m going to watch our tail and, if I tell you what to do, follow my instructions.”
“You’ve been around cops too much.”
“No, I’ve been followed too much.”
In a way I was hoping we would be followed so I could get a car description and license plate number. When no tail showed I sighed and told Jesse she could drive to another store. I thought today was going relatively smoothly considering it was me and I was going shopping. The two usually spelled trouble and I was in no shape for trouble.
We managed to find a big plastic pail of sand toys. I added a beach ball and two plastic swim rings to the cart.
“How good can the boys swim?” I asked.
“They’ve never seen enough water to learn.”
“They can’t swim?”
“Where would they learn?”
“Jesse, you know how to swim. Where did you learn to swim?”
“We had lessons at a swimming pool in town. Remember?”
“Oh yeah. So the boys don’t know how to swim yet? Should we get them life preservers instead of swim rings?”
“Patrick wouldn’t be caught dead in one. He’ll want to learn how to swim without one. Wyatt would love one.”
There they were again, Patrick taking after me, Wyatt taking after Jesse. I put the swim rings back and bought two life preservers. Even if we only used one I needed to treat the boys equally. I got Patrick one with sharks on it so it would look cool and I got one for Wyatt with beach balls and sun graphics because he was more of a kid. Even though I expected Pat to refuse to use his I hoped he would. The ocean was no place to learn how to swim.
After stocking up on beach toys I was beat. I needed to go home and nap. Jesse planned a dinner and called Rusty.
“The boys asked for hamburgers,” he said.
“They always ask for hamburgers. They can’t live on fast food.”
“Four days won’t kill them.”
“No, but it’ll spoil them.”
“Not if it’s just their Uncle Rusty doing it. They aren’t going to expect you to suddenly turn into a junk food junkie. Make a salad if you want vegetables.”
“I swear, that man is impossible,” Jesse said hanging up.
“Give him a break. It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile in a month,” I called from the bedroom.
“It is?” Jesse asked as she sat down on the side of the bed. “He’s taking this miscarriage harder than you.”
“He’s always wanted kids. He lost a kid. He didn’t get a chance to meet him but he knows what it could have been like. He’s mourned ever since he found out what happened. And he knew long before I did. He spent days sitting in my room thinking about it with no one to talk to. To me the hard part is just getting well. I know that seems kind of backwards. Usually it’s the mom who knows, who goes through the feelings. He needs this time with the boys. I think he wanted me to see what it was like having kids in the house again and he’s trying to make it fun for me. He knows me too good. It’s going to work, just wait and see.”
“What would you have named him?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it. We call him Trevor after a little boy I rescued from a mine cave in but that’s not what we would have named him.”
“Would you stick to the tradition?”
“Not for Dad. If there was an old west name that worked, we’d go with it, but if not we wouldn’t feel obligated to stick to his ‘tradition’. Knowing me our boy would probably be named Otto because he was born in the car.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. Otto? Would you really name a little baby Otto?”
“It was a joke. Now let me rest or I’ll be in no shape to enjoy dinner. What is it?”
“Hamburgers.”
“Oh, goodie.”
Rusty arrived home with Wyatt on his shoulders.
“Duck!” he said as he approached the front door.
“What?”
“Duck,” Rusty repeated. Wyatt still wouldn’t fit under the door jam.
“Duck, duck, goose!” Patrick said. He swatted Rusty on the rear and ran under his legs and through the front door. Rusty ducked, too, and with both of them ducking they fit through the doorway.
“We got hamburgers and French fries and onion rings. Onion rings are vegetables and ketchup is tomatoes and pickles are cucumbers and there’s lettuce and tomatoes on the hamburgers, too,” Patrick announced.
“And mustard is a weed, so it’s a vegetable, too,” added Wyatt.
“And I suppose soda is a vegetable, too?” Jesse added.
“No, it’s almost all sugar but that gives people energy,” Patrick said.
“Oh, I see,” Jesse said disapprovingly. I hoped Jesse seeing Rusty in swim trunks would make up for his food choices.
“I got to ride shotgun in a police car,” Wyatt told his mom. “I didn’t get a shotgun, though.”
“Well, that’s good. You’re not old enough for a shotgun.”
Patrick added, “I got to see Mr. Schroeder and Officer Thompson and Officer Jankowski. Mr. Schroeder tells good stories. You didn’t tell me you had a motorcycle! We picked it up. It’s cool! Can I ride it?”
“You picked up the bike? From the station or from the shop?”
“The shop, they fixed the tire, gas tank and starter. They wanted to know how you messed it up that much after only 200 miles. They thought I had a hell of a teenager. They were even more puzzled when I said it was my wife’s.”
I explained to Patrick, “You can’t ride it unless we get you a helmet and you have to let an adult drive.”
“Aww, rats.”
“When you’re old enough to have a license we’ll teach you how to ride one,” Jesse said.
“You will? My mom knows how to ride a motorcycle? My mom? My scrapbooking mom?”
“What’s so odd about that?” Jesse said. “I learned when I was a kid.”
“How come you never ride one?” Patrick asked. “If I could ride one I would ride it every day. I could get to the deer flats in five minutes.”
“And scare all the deer away in two seconds,” I reminded him. “It’s still better to ride horses or walk there if you want to stalk deer.”
The next day we packed up towels and beach toys, life preservers, and the surfboard.
“Wow! Aunt Cassidy! Are you a surfer like Uncle Cody?” Patrick asked.
“Not quite. I haven’t learned how to stand up on it yet. It’s kind of tricky.”
“You will do it! You’re good at everything.”
“Thanks Patrick, but I don’t get to practice very much.”
We all piled into the Explorer and Rusty pulled out onto Lost Hills Road. Before we even got to the freeway Wyatt asked, “Are we there yet?”
“No!” said Patrick exasperated. “It’s four hours.”
“We’re not going to that beach. We’re going to a closer one,” I told Patrick. “It’s only two hours away.”
“We’re not going to Cody’s beach?”
I laughed. Mission Beach was just about Cody’s beach. Everyone there knew him, locals and tourists alike. But we weren’t going to Mission Beach.
“No, it’s too far for a one day trip.”
“We could stay two days! Then Mom and Wyatt could visit Bill and Bev and Cody and Chase.”
“We can’t be gone two days. Uncle Rusty has to work.”
“Aww, rats.”
Fifteen minutes later Wyatt asked, “Are we there yet?”
Rusty smiled, glad for the kid chatter. “When we park, we’ll be there,” he said.
“When will we park?”
“When we get there.”
“When will we get there?”
“When we park.”
“But…”
“Wyatt! Let’s play a game,” suggested Jesse. “Let’s play car Bingo. That’s something even Wyatt can play. The first person to spot a dump truck, yell bingo!”
“I can’t see the other cars,” complained Wyatt.
“You can see them good enough to spot a dump truck,” Jesse told him.
We drove and drove and never did see a dump truck. I could have sworn there was always a dump truck on I-14, and for sure on the 405. We pulled into the parking lot and parked. We all jumped out and Wyatt yelled, “Bingo!”
Sure enough, a dump truck was parked in the parking lot.
“Good job, Wyatt!” gushed Jesse. “You won the game!”
“What did I win?” Wyatt asked.
“The game!” Jesse answered.
“But what do I get?”
“You get to be Bingo champion for the day.”
Patrick looked like all these games were for little kids. He was ready to get down to business.
Rusty grinned from ear to ear as he led his little troop down to the beach. He carried my surfboard under one arm and an ice chest full of drinks with the other. We all gathered up the beach toys and towels and followed him. Rusty staked out a spot and then ran back and took the basket of sand toys from me.
Jesse slathered sunscreen on the boys. Patrick fought it, because sunscreen was for sissies. Wyatt put up with it grudgingly. He was ready to play in the sand. Jesse settled down on a beach blanket to watch Rusty. I wanted to swim but I tracked with Patrick first just to humor him.
“Tell me what kind of person made the tracks. Following them is easy in this sand, so go a step further. Is it a man or a woman? Big or small?”
He tracked along happily describing the people to me. He was incredibly accurate, though I think he was only basing his guesses on the size of the tracks.
“And this man has been hurt. One of his feet drags when he walks. It’s hard for him to walk in this deep sand. I bet he heads for harder ground.” Patrick was right. The man found firmer ground and stopped there for a while.
“What do you think he is doing?” I asked.
“He is just watching people and resting. Then he goes back up the beach the way he came.”
We followed the man’s tracks and he went past our picnic spot and stopped again. We never did spot the man but Patrick did well profiling him. We went back to the beach blanket and I sat to rest. Just walking up and down the beach had taxed me.
“Pat, how would you hide your tracks in all this sand?” I asked.
“Can’t. They show up too easily.”
“You can’t hide them completely but you can keep them from being identified as yours. There are ways, so think about it for a little while.”
When I was rested again I headed for the water, surfboard under my arm. I was always amazed how the long, bulky things were so easy to carry. Once they were balanced they just kind of hung there. Rusty trotted after me. He took the board from me and stayed with me while I paddled out to a waiting spot.
“You sure you’re okay out here?” he asked.
“Yeah, it doesn’t take a lot of energy to sit here and wait for a wave.”
“Don’t try standing yet. Just work on timing and use your tether. You need to keep your board close. It’s a good resting place if you run out of energy.”
“I know. I won’t be out long. Go play with the boys. And don’t tell Patrick about the fish and sharks. He’ll either be scared to get in the water with them or want to learn scuba diving before he can even swim.”
Little laugh lines appeared as he tread water beside me.
“Be careful,” he said before giving me a light kiss and swimming away. It was a slow day at the beach as far as surfing went. It didn’t help that I picked an out of the way place to practice. Surfers tended to be territorial and I didn’t want to invade their space. In San Diego I got more practice because I had Cody watching out for me. He was my ticket to the good waves. Here, I was on my own. I had a long rest on the board before I finally caught a wave headed the right direction. I paddled into position. I could hear Cody’s voice in my head, coaching me. Line it up, find the crest, when the timing is right… right… GO! GO! Go for it! Yeah! I rode the wave in, jubilant, then turned around and paddled out to deeper water again. I was winded by the time I reached my waiting spot. I stretched out on the board, catching my breath.
There were a lot of swimmers out that day. People bobbed around in the water. Kids were snorkeling and boogie boarding closer to shore. Parents guided toddlers along the surf line, lifting them out of the water when the wave was too deep. Rusty waded around with Patrick. A wave swept over him and Pat braced for the cold, jumping and letting the wave carry him towards shore. Rusty stood over him ready to help when Patrick went too far.
Another wave came my direction and I went through the motions again, knowing I had to do it many more times to get the feel. The rush riding the wave down was amazing and tiring at the same time. I couldn’t do this many more times before I’d have to go rest. The wave broke over me and, like usual, I got dumped off my board. Holding my breath I waited for things to calm down, then popped to the surface. Winded, I held onto the board and rested. I was drifting in close to shore so I paddled out again. Each time I paddled I had to rest longer. I couldn’t even climb onto the board when I reached deep water again. I had to just hang on and wait for more energy. While I was waiting I looked to shore. Rusty was watching me, concerned I hadn’t climbed onto my board. I tried again and he went back to playing with Patrick. Deeper and deeper they went until Pat finally accepted a piggyback ride.
I pushed against the board trying to get it under me and balanced when suddenly something grabbed me and dragged me down from below. I gasped for breath before the water closed around my head. I thrashed around, trying to escape. Hands pushed my head down, down. Hands! It was a person! This calmed me in a way. It gave me options. First I tried for the eyes and my hands met a mask. I pulled at the mask and my assailant struggled back. I tried for the groin but in the water I couldn’t get a good thrust going. My strength was draining. My side ached from the unexpected movement. I had to do something fast! I grabbed the tether for my surfboard and pulled, pulled until the board was right overhead, then I yanked hard pulling the end of the board down into my captor’s face. Bam! Bam! Bam! BAM! Right into his face. My lungs burned! I had to breathe but I forced myself to wait. I pulled again on the tether, hard, driving the board between us. It wouldn’t go far. It was designed to float and this time when it rose the tip ripped the mask off my attacker. I big bubble of air burst to the surface. He let go of me groping for the mask, trying to get things back in control. I pushed away and frantically swam toward the beach. When my head broke the surface I coughed and sputtered and swam, the surfboard scooting along behind me. I swam until my fingers scraped mud and then I staggered through the surf to safety. Ground. Nice firm ground. And air. I sat heavily in the hot sand watching for my attacker, exhausted.
I looked for Rusty. He was standing in the surf, Patrick on his back, watching the water. He waded to shore and sent Patrick to stay with Jesse. He was worried. I stood shakily and gathered up the surfboard, found the balance point and started walking. Rusty was just about to swim out to my waiting spot when he spotted me walking down the beach. He jogged towards me. He took the surfboard from me and was going to jog with it back over to Jesse when he realized it was still attached to my ankle.
“What happened?”
“Just let me sit down.”
“Cass, what happened?”
“Dirk’s still mad at me.”
When I finally got to the blanket I told Patrick, “If you see the man who drags his foot, tell Uncle Rusty quick.” Then to Rusty I said, “I can’t believe it. Patrick and I tracked Dirk and I didn’t even notice. I’m slipping. I should have known it was him. I should have noticed a tail.”
“Want to see how I hid my tracks?” Patrick asked.
“In a minute. Let me rest first.”
“What happened?” Rusty wasn’t going to be content until he got the whole story.
“He waited until I was tired. I was trying to seat my board but I was having trouble climbing up. He yanked me under water and held me under.”
“How do you know it was him?”
“I guess I don’t, but it fits his MO. He wants to see me suffocate. He said so and he tried it once before in the hospital.”
“What’s a MO?” Patrick asked.
“A method of operation. It’s the way a bad guy chooses to act.”
“Is that a police code?”
“No, it’s just an acronym.”
“How did you get away?” Jesse asked. I was glad it was her. I could abbreviate my explanation to her.
“Surfboards make good battering rams. I hope I didn’t break it.”
“That’s my sister for you, always using what comes to hand. If you hadn’t had the surfboard you’d have grabbed a fish and beat him with that,” Jesse said. Patrick laughed at the mental picture.
Wyatt said, “A fish? Where would she get a fish?”
“In the water?” Jesse said.
“There’s fish in the water?” Wyatt asked, alarmed.
“Of course there’s fish in the water. Fish live in the water. But they don’t like people. They swim away if you get close.”
“How big are they?” Wyatt asked.
Jesse was catching on slowly. “Oh, they are only little,” she said.
Wyatt wasn’t to be conned though. “Where do the big fish live? Where do whales live?”
“They live waaaay out there in the deep, deep water, not up here where people swim.”
“Where do sharks live?”
The questions went on and on and I was glad to let them. I didn’t want to think about Dirk and drowning. I wanted Rusty to forget it and have a fun day. I made sure there was an adult with the boys at all times and I rested. After a while I noticed security patrols frequented the area and wondered if Rusty had called in the incident.
“Want to see how I hid my tracks?” Patrick asked again.
“Of course I do,” I answered. “Show me.”
“I’ll show you the first one and then you gotta track me,” he said.
“Okay.”
He led me to a single track and pointed it out. It was definitely Patrick’s track. I looked for the next one. He was clever, that kid was. I had to give him credit. His next track he’d used another person’s footprint. He knew his small tracks would show up inside a big print so he only put pressure on the outside edge of his foot and matched the line of his footprint to the one already in the sand. The next footprint was too far away for him to reach so he had to use another footprint that was pointed in a different direction. Patiently and very carefully he had zigzagged his way over a multitude of other people’s tracks. At one point he took three careful steps down a length of seaweed washed up onto the shore.
“Pat! You did a great job! That was really good thinking. I bet Uncle Rusty couldn’t track you.”
He looked disappointed. “But you could,” he said.
He needed a boost. “Only because you’d told me you’d hid them. If I was just looking for a trail of Patrick tracks I never would have seen them.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Could I have tricked Chase?”
“I don’t know. Chase is used to me hiding my tracks. He probably expects you to, too.”
“I’ll have to practice at home and see if I can trick Elan!” he said excitedly. Mission accomplished. Patrick was now thinking about what his own feet told people.
Rusty was on alert now. He was watching people, suspicious. It saddened me. I wanted him to have fun. He planned this day to play with the kids. So… I determined I’d have fun with the kids. I had tracked with Patrick, so next it was Wyatt’s turn.
“Wyatt, do you want to swim?”
“No, I don’t want to go with the fishes.”
“The fishes stay away. I went in the deep water and I didn’t see any fishes. I tell you what, we’ll just put our toes in and if you see any fishes just tell me and I’ll lift you out of the water.”
“Why does the water turn white when it gets to the sand?”
“Because it’s busy. Have you ever put water in a jar and shaken it up real hard? It looks white while all the particles are mixing up and there is lots of air in it. Then when the water settles down the white goes away. The ocean is the same.”
He shied away from the water when we got close. It took some time just to get his toes wet and even then it happened accidentally.
“Do you see any fishes out there?” I asked.
“No, they’re hiding.”
“Do you see any place for them to hide?”
“No.”
“That’s because the hiding places are in deeper water. It is nice and open and sandy here so the fish are a long ways away.”
Wyatt tried my patience but I was glad to have some time to actually talk with this, normally silent, nephew of mine.
“I’ll pick you up and you look in the water. If you see any fishes, let me know.”
He reached up to be held so I picked him up and waded out about knee deep. Every few minutes I’d ask him if he saw fishes. I held him over the water so he could get a good look. When I waded deeper he clutched me tighter. He worried when his feet dangled in the water but no little fishes nibbled on his toes.
“See the people swimming? They aren’t scared of fishes.”
I spent half the afternoon easing Wyatt into the water. I didn’t think we made much progress in the water department but I’d made progress with Wyatt. He knew me better by the end of the day. He talked more than I had ever heard him talk in his life.
Watching me with Wyatt calmed Rusty’s frazzled nerves. By the time Wyatt and I waded out of the water and made our way up to the beach blanket Rusty was laid back, soaking up the sun.
“Still got your toes?” Rusty asked as I walked up.
“Yup, the fishes didn’t even touch us.”
“How do you put things behind you so fast? Most people wouldn’t have gone near the water after being pulled under like that.”
“I’d even go out and try a couple more waves. In fact, I think I should. If Dirk is somewhere watching I’d like to show him he can’t scare me.”
“It would just make him double his efforts. Don’t tempt him.”
“Uncle Rusty? The man at that booth might know about that bad man,” Patrick said.
“What man at what booth?” Rusty asked.
“That one,” Pat said pointing.
“Why would the man there know anything?”
“I went back and I followed the tracks of the man who dragged his foot when he walked. His tracks go up to that booth and then they go around it. It’s cement around it but people have tracked in enough dirt you can still see he drags his foot. He took something from over there and went away to the parking lot or something. I couldn’t follow him because Mom would get mad and there’s not enough sand in the parking lot. But maybe that man knows something.”
“Aunt Cassidy? Do you have a piece of cardboard and some string?” Wyatt asked.
“I’m sure we can come up with a piece of cardboard. I don’t know where you’re going to find string on the beach. What do you need it for?”
“My sand castle needs a drawbridge.”
There you go again, I thought. The two boys were like night and day. One off tracking a violent criminal, the other making elaborate sandcastles, carving windows and doors, and digging a moat. Two completely different personalities, just like Jesse and I had been growing up.
Rusty climbed the slight rise to the booth. I looked for a piece of cardboard and a string. It seemed strange that the request of a five year old boy seemed as important as an attempted murder charge. Nevertheless, I looked and I found a piece of cardboard that we cut to size and I lent Wyatt a shoe lace to complete his project. He looked his castle over.
“Aunt Cassidy? Can I go over to that hamburger stand?”
“Wyatt!” Jesse scolded. “You don’t ask Cassidy for things like that. If you want a sandwich you’ll have to wait and eat lunch with the rest of us.”
Wyatt hung his head. “But I don’t want a hamburger. I only want to go over there and look for something.”
“I’ll go with him,” I offered.
Wyatt happily scampered over to the stand and began looking around on the ground. He picked up one thing and carried it around. He found two more, compared them, then saw another under the wheel of the cart. He worked it loose and compared the four. He chose the best three and found a trashcan to throw his discard in.
“What are you looking for Wyatt?”
“I saw people walking away from that stand with little flags stuck in their hamburgers and they were just throwing them away. I wanted flags for my castle. See? I have three towers and now I can add flags to it.”
“That was very observant for you to notice that. They’ll look great on your castle.”
“Oh look,” he said. “Somebody lost it, but it’s broke. It’ll work better than string.” He bent down and picked up a broken necklace chain. It was cheap and useless, except as a chain for a drawbridge on a sandcastle. He ran back and added the finishing touches.
“Mom! Look! I finished it!” Wyatt announced.
“Wyatt! That’s a wonderful sandcastle and look how you dressed it up! You’re so creative.”
Wyatt beamed as Jesse took a picture of his creation. Then she took one of him sitting next to it. Just like his mom, I thought. My mom had countless pictures of Jesse holding up some completed project or modeling a new dress. Her pictures of me were snuck while I was in the barn, doing chores, working with the horses. I was never looking at the camera. I was always focused on a task.
Patrick looked smug as Rusty came back. “Good call, buddy. The guy didn’t even know his scuba gear was missing but he remembered talking to a guy that matched Dirk’s description.” That was all the praise Patrick needed. He’d been right and now he knew it. He was happy.
The day was wearing on me. It was a good one though. I’d been more active than I had been in weeks. I fell asleep curled up on the beach blanket and I woke up with an umbrella over me and Wyatt asleep beside me. Rusty and Jesse were talking quietly.
“…she’s not against the idea. She’s just not ready to settle down.”
“If she doesn’t settle down one of these trouble bouts is going to kill her.” Jesse said. “She tries to make light of it so I won’t worry. But this was too close. She could have drowned out there and we wouldn’t have known a thing until somebody found an empty surfboard. Do you think it’s good for her to learn how to surf?”
“It can’t hurt. At least the landing’s soft. I can’t stop her from trying. Besides, have you seen the look in her eyes when she tackles something new? There’s real joy there. I can’t take away anything that brings her joy. And she’ll learn. As soon as she recovers from the surgery she’ll be back out there pushing herself to stand on the board.”
“Why can’t she find a nice, normal hobby?”
“She did. You have to be around law enforcement to see it. We see a lot of reserve officers who are basically hobby cops. They go out when they want to see some action. Cassidy isn’t like that. She goes when they call. She goes no matter what it costs her. That’s why she ended up in CCU. She didn’t know she was going through a serious medical condition. A person was lost. No questions asked. She had to find them. She won’t turn down a call and that is what makes the idea of parenthood hard for her. She’d be torn between two worlds.”
I was still feeling lazy and I was wondering what else I was going to learn about myself so I lay still.
“How can a woman not know she is pregnant? How far along was she?” Jesse asked.
“Ten weeks.”
“She should at least have had morning sickness. If she gets pregnant and never has morning sickness I am going to be so jealous!”
“No you won’t. She’s gone through that and more. Count your lucky stars you’ve never seen what she’s been through. Just watching it… even when I can’t see it, like today. It was so close and we didn’t know a thing was going on. What would I do? All I’d have left is minutes, treasured minutes.”
“Minutes?”
“Cassidy didn’t want to marry me. She said it wouldn’t be fair to bring trouble on me like she’d been through. I didn’t know what to say. I was dying inside. I wanted anything she’d give me. Minutes. Even just minutes. So the good times we call our treasured minutes… and they’re adding up. She’s given me so many treasured minutes. Like the joy in her eyes when she tries to surf. If I can see that again I’ll be a happy man.”
“Just wait until she finally does get pregnant. You catch the look in her eyes when they plop that wet, wriggly, pink, wrinkled, little baby on her chest and you’ll know. She’ll be ready.”
“I hope so.”
“And hey, there’s no hurry. You haven’t been married long.”
“I’m an old man at the station. There’s so many guys there in their twenties who already have kids. I’m really going to get teased if it ever really happens. They’re going to call me grandpa.”
“Grandpas are old. You’re not old,” put in Patrick.
“Thank you, Patrick. I don’t really care when it happens. I just wish I could know if it will. I can live with the idea of not having kids, but if that’s the way it’s going to be I’d like to get into that mindset. Instead, every time the subject of kids comes up Cass feels pressured and things get awkward.”
“Did you know she called me while she was babysitting that one year old?” Jesse laughed. “She’d gone through two thirds of a package of baby wipes to change two diapers. She didn’t know what to do with the kid. He was fighting sleep and she had no experience. I could sympathize but there wasn’t much I could do long distance.”
“She really never even baby sat as a teenager?”
“No. She didn’t need to. Dad kept her working the horses. She had a gift for it. Some of our winners are due to Cassidy’s work. To dad Cassidy was a son and she took to it. It was like she was the brother and I was the sister.”
“You know, I could be really mad at your dad if I let myself. Not that I expect Cass to be a baby expert. But to force her into the role of a boy just because she didn’t fit the plan was unfair to her. She’d have learned all the ranch work on her own just because she’s a worker, likes to be outdoors, and likes horses. But to make her live up to Steve’s example when she was just a kid. It was unfair.”
“You know what Cass does when life throws her a curve ball? She catches it and figures out how to make use of that ball and when she throws it back whoever threw it better watch out. Dad got what he had coming to him. Cass rejected the ranch life. She joined the Marines just like a parent should be proud of their sons doing and she made her own life.”
“And her life is still curving. She’s still fighting to be herself. She just seems to hope the curve doesn’t end in total normality. I don’t think it will. But I don’t know what to expect either.”
Was that what I was doing? I didn’t feel like it, although much of my life did feel like a rebellion of sorts. Rusty crawled over to me.
“Cass? Hon, it’s getting late. We need to pack up.”
“One more time,” I said.
“One more what?”
“One more wave.”
“We’ll be all wet for the ride home. We need to stop and eat dinner.”
I didn’t want to go. I’d been outdoors and more active than I had been in weeks. I wasn’t totally bored and exhausted. I wanted to take advantage of it. “Okay,” he finally said. “If I can go with you. I don’t trust Dirk.”
As I paddled out I was thinking through this ride. My mistake so far in standing on the board was standing too far forward. The tip of the board would dig into the water and toss me off. So… this time I needed to come to a stand farther back on the board. What would happen if I stood too far back? The tip would rise. And what happened when the tip rose? I didn’t know but I was about to find out. All the other surfers had gone home so I didn’t have to wait long for a wave. The first one I got wasn’t a particularly big one but I got into position.
Wait, wait, feel the swell. Keep with it. I felt for the time, just the right time, where was it? There… there! The board started down the wave. I pushed up, brought my feet under me. Back, not forward, the board felt unsteady. I found a balance spot thinking it would dump me over the side but it didn’t. Shakily I rose to a crouched position, hands out for balance. The board shook under my feet. Balance wasn’t quite sure but… I did it! I did it! Once.
All I did was ride the wave down but I was jubilant. Rusty swam after me and clasped me in a hug when he caught up to me. His eyes were laughing as he scolded me, “I told you not to try standing until you were healed up.” We hung on the board just grinning at each other. “I knew this day would come. I was waiting for it. I hoped I’d be there when you did it.” And when he said it I knew why he wanted kids. So many shared firsts. So many treasured minutes. I’d give anything to see Rusty like this. “Come on, let’s go find a restaurant that doesn’t care what we look like and celebrate.”
“But I can’t quit now! I’ll lose it!”
“You won’t lose it. You learned something from it. You’ll get dumped in the ocean again no matter how good you get but you won’t lose it. Not you. You’ll remember the foot placement.”
I hoped he was right. I decided it was more important to emerge from the sea victorious.
When we got back to the beach Wyatt was jumping up and down in his excitement.
“Aunt Cassidy is a real surfer now! Can I try? Can I try?”
“First you have to learn how to swim. Then you have to learn how to swim with the fishes. When you can swim with the fishes you can learn how to surf.”
“Oh goodie! Can I swim with the fishes? Now?”
“Swimming takes practice. You’ll have to spend time learning. You can’t learn it all in one day.”
“Can I swim with the fishes just a little bit?”
I wasn’t going to make him sit in a stuffy restaurant when he wanted to swim with the fishes. Rusty sighed and went to the hamburger stand. I put the life preserver on Wyatt and led him to the water. I held him and waded out until I was waist deep and the surf wouldn’t wash over Wyatt as he tried to swim.
“Do you see any fishes?” I asked.
“No, they’re hiding in the deep water.”
“Right. Now I’m going to put you in the water. The vest will make it so you float. Ready?”
I set him down and his eyes got big. He wriggled around feeling the water around him. I stepped a few steps away. “Point your body toward me and kick with your feet,” I instructed. “Have you seen scuba divers on TV? Point your toes like flippers and kick.”
He reached for me and kicked his feet. He barely moved but he made progress. When he’d kicked his way all two feet toward me I pulled him up.
“Good job! This time I want you to kick with your feet and push the water towards your feet with your hands. There’s two ways to do that. Can I set you down while I show you?”
And so we spent another half hour with Wyatt learning how to swim with the fishes. I always knew, if kids had a good reason to learn, they could learn anything. All they needed was a good reason, so when a good reason came up you had to be ready to take advantage of it. Wyatt emerged from his little swimming lesson ready for more.
“I swam with the fishes!” He told his mom as he ran up the beach, “They stayed away because they were scared of us.”
He stood on my surfboard acting like a surfer. Patrick tracked the beach close by. We all dried out and brushed off and headed for the nearest restaurant.
“Mom, can I have a corndog?” Patrick asked.
“There’s all these good things on the menu and you want a corndog? There’s shrimp and scallops and fish and even shark and you want a corndog?”
“There’s shark? We could eat a shark?” Wyatt asked excitedly.
“You can have whatever you want,” Rusty said.
“I want a shark!” Wyatt exclaimed.
“That’s an adult meal. You can’t eat that much,” Jesse said.
“But Uncle Rusty…”
“He can have shark if he wants shark. Have you told him what calamari is yet?” Rusty said.
“Don’t you dare,” Jesse said.
When the orders were taken Patrick ordered a corndog and Wyatt ordered shark. I ordered Manhattan clam chowder because I’d been to this place before and I knew the Manhattan clam chowder was an educational experience for the boys. Rusty ordered an appetizer knowing he’d end up eating most of Wyatt’s shark.
When the food arrived I laughed because Wyatt jumped down from his chair and hid behind his mom. Smack dab in the middle of my bowl was a large, whole crab.
“Wyatt, come here. It’s dead. Patrick, come look.”
“What is it?” Wyatt asked.
“It’s just a crab,” Patrick answered annoyed with his brother’s caution.
“Pat, next time we go to the beach we’ll have to watch for crabs and track them. They walk sideways. See their feet? I bet the tracks are interesting, little sideways scratch marks. Do you want the claw?” I said lifting the claw hand of the crab. Wyatt shivered and Patrick said, “Cool! Can I have it?”
“Don’t tease your brother with it,” I admonished him as I broke it off.
He stood there making the claw open and close. Wyatt snuck around and peeked over his brother’s shoulder.
“Where do crabs live?” Wyatt asked.
“In the water with the fishes, but some of them come on land. Sometimes we see them on the beach.”
“I swam with crabs?”
“Yeah, but they stay away from people, too.”
I pulled the meat out of the crab’s leg and handed some to Wyatt.
“Ewe! That’s crab muscles!”
“Yeah, eat it.”
“Eat it? I’m not eating crab muscles!”
I laughed at him knowing he was gung ho about eating shark muscles, he just didn’t know it. I ate my crab muscles and enjoyed it. Wyatt watched me cautiously as I cracked open the crab and added the meat to my chowder.
“Shark is weird,” Wyatt announced. “It’s not like fish and it’s not like animals.”
“Do you like it?” Jesse asked.
“I guess. I’m mostly eating it to freak out Dad. He’s going to think it’s gross to eat a shark.”
I thought I better call James and warn him to act appropriately grossed out.
“Aunt Cassidy? What kind of tracks would a seal make?” Patrick asked.
“Well, you know they don’t have paws so the tracks are going to look very different from the animals you are used to. Imagine them when they move. They push with their flippers and they push with their back ends. So the tracks would look like a drag mark with flipper pushes next to it.”
“Cassidy, how do you stand all the questions? He drives me nuts with his questions.”
“He asks good questions. It tells me he is thinking. I’d be more worried if he didn’t ask questions.”
“When they pull with their flippers they push with their tails,” Pat said after giving it more thought.
“You’re right, so what do you think a tail push looks like?”
“I’m full,” announced Wyatt.
Jesse looked annoyed but Rusty jumped in, “Did you eat some veggies?”
“I ate some.”
“Good job, are you sure you’re full?”
“Yeah, I’m stuffed.”
“Can I try it? I’ve never tried shark before.”
Wyatt handed over his plate and sat watching me eat crab muscles and soup, while Rusty finished off the shark.
The trip home was very quiet. After a few questions from Patrick the boys got tired and fell asleep and the darkness settled in. Rusty carried Wyatt into the house and put him to bed on the couch in the den. He went back for Patrick but Pat had been conditioned. One touch and he was awake and alert.
“Elan has a saying, ‘your ears can sleep while your eyes are awake. While your eyes are asleep your ears stand guard,’” he told us. “He makes me tell time with my eyes closed. I have to guess where the sun is. Or if it’s night I have to figure it out by the amount of light. He says each stage of the night or day have different feelings to them.”
Jesse thought it was very odd but it made sense to me. Awake or not Patrick was ready for bed. He found his bed in the den and plopped down tiredly.
“I don’t know about you but to me today was glorious!” I said, stretching. The incision pulled and the muscles complained but all in all I felt much better than I had the day before.
“You almost died and it was a glorious day?” Jesse said.
“Two very bad minutes don’t ruin a glorious day. It was still wonderful. I love the beach. I could rest when I needed to and play when I wanted to. I haven’t felt that well in weeks.”
The bed shook and I jerked awake. Was it a dream? I was tired of being alert all the time. When it was just wariness I didn’t mind so much but this wariness was different. I was tired of trouble. The bed shook again and I realized it was Rusty. Oh, Rusty. He only had nightmares when he was really worried. Sometimes nightmares stemmed from things he imagined could happen to me and sometimes it was an old hurt. Sometimes my trouble brought the old nightmare back but he hadn’t had that one in a long time.
I wasn’t sure it was safe to wake him. I knelt on the bed ready to jump out of the way. There was only a few seconds in there between sleep and reality where I had to be careful but I’d learned the hard way that those few seconds came rather quickly. This wasn’t one of those times. I shook him gently and he was awake in an instant, eyes wide, breathing quick. He just looked at me and knew. The fear faded and relief came over him. We’re okay, his look said. We’re okay and at home and she’s here and she’s whole. Everything’s okay. I lay back down beside him.
“I don’t know what it feels like to not be able to breathe,” he said quietly. “It’s only what I imagine it to be like. I know it’s happening but I don’t know where or how to get there in time. I feel what I imagine you are going through and I have to find you…”
“You found me. I’m right here.”
“For how long?”
“Forever, I’m here forever.”
I awoke suddenly again but this time it was for a different reason. Someone was in the room. This person wasn’t stealthy, although they were trying to be quiet. When they climbed up onto the window seat I knew it was Patrick.
“Pat, it’s too early for the deer. Go back to bed.”
“Can I try to stalk them if they come?”
“Of course, but they won’t come until it’s light out.”
“Can I eat cold pizza for breakfast so I’ll be ready when they come?”
“What would your mom fix for breakfast?”
“Scrambled eggs and fruit and toast.”
“Then let’s see if we can come up with scrambled eggs, fruit and toast.”
“Aww, rats.”
“You’ve been getting your way for dinner. Do it Mom’s way for breakfast. I’ll fix it for you. Close the door on the way out and I’ll be right there.”
Rusty grinned at me as I rolled out of bed and went to put some clothes on.
“Go back to sleep. It’s too early to get up,” I said to Rusty.
“Then why are you?”
“I’ve got a nephew ready to stalk deer. Can’t turn down a deer stalking nephew. You buy them hamburgers and pizza. I get up at insane hours and stalk deer.”
“Don’t wear yourself out.”
I wondered what the plan was today and what I might need energy for.
In the kitchen we found eggs and bread. The only fruit we had was an old cantaloupe. I hadn’t done much grocery shopping since coming home.
“Well, how about if I mix up some orange juice?”
“Can I have milk?”
I smelled the milk.
“Only if you are very brave.”
“Orange juice is fine.”
He scarfed down his scrambled eggs and toast and gulped down his orange juice then ran off and dressed in khaki pants, a camouflage t-shirt, and moccasins. Oh dear, I thought, it’s contagious. He went out to the backyard and went through his little ritual of silently inviting the deer to visit. I would never understand it but I wouldn’t stop him from identifying with animals in any way he felt comfortable. I liked to sit under trees and feed squirrels from my hand. He liked to talk to the deer. What was the difference, when you came right down to it?
When the deer silently stepped out onto the grass in the side yard Patrick was raring to go.
“Hold on, has your mom ever seen you stalk deer?”
“I don’t think so. The deer flats are a long ways from the house.”
“Let’s give her a chance.”
The best place to watch the deer was from my bedroom, so I went to wake Rusty, but he was already awake watching for the deer. He hadn’t watched me stalk deer in over a month. It was one of his favorite things to do.
“Mind if Jesse joins you?” I asked. “She’s never seen Patrick stalk deer.”
“Okay, I’ll get dressed.”
I went to the guestroom.
“Jesse?”
“Hmm?”
“If you want to watch Patrick stalk deer head for the bay window. Rusty’s already there. He’ll show you where to look.”
She gave me a “you’ve got to be kidding” look.
“Come on sis, you’ll be glad you did. He’s good at it. I bet he’s better since he’s been working with Elan.”
Jesse cracked an eye. I hoped she didn’t look too closely into a mirror before going to the window.
“Aunt Cassidy! Come on!” Patrick urged quietly.
“We want the deer to come all the way into the yard, anyway. We have a minute.”
He walked to the den, peeked out the window and came back. Jesse got up reluctantly and ran a brush through her hair. Patrick ran to the back door.
At one time the deer had been used to my outdoor activities. They would come to the fringes of the yard even if I was outside working. Now they were more cautious. They hadn’t seen me in a while and they certainly didn’t remember this other little human. I thought it made a good test of our stalking abilities.
“Open the door as quietly as you can,” I instructed.
We slid outside and I silently closed the door before Shadow could dash out. Patrick knew what to do. He was in stalking mode from the very first. He no longer looked to me for guidance. He watched the deer and took his cues from them. I followed and went into my own stalk behind him, letting him choose the way. He walked out to the end of the patio and knelt down, thanking the deer for visiting, then he rose and took two crouched steps towards them. Their heads shot up and they watched him. He seemed unconcerned. He knew they’d watch him. He was a stranger after all. It looked more like he was approaching a frightened child than a herd of deer. He didn’t intimidate. He advanced when they would accept advances and he stopped when they showed fear. This was a different way of stalking than I had done. To me distraction was my main tool. When the deer ate I moved. When they sensed me and stopped I froze. We advanced step by very cautious step. I watched Pat place each foot carefully and silently. He kept his eye on the deer, not on the ground. The more he closed in the lower he crouched. I became so absorbed watching Patrick that I forgot about the deer and finally I decided to let him go on alone. I was just starting to lower myself to a nice non-threatening wait when a shot echoed off the barn. Instinct took over and, instead of lying to wait I dashed forward tackling Patrick, shielding him from harm. At the same time something hit me in the head. I tumbled forward, taking Patrick down with me. I vaguely felt him squirming around beneath me as stars danced around in my head. I could hear Jesse’s frantic yelling from the bay window and the sliding door as Rusty ran out, gun drawn.
“Aunt Cassidy! You’re squishing me!” Patrick said squirming.
“Pat, lay still!” Rusty shushed him.
When the stars settled down I rolled off of Patrick, holding him down.
“Shh, stay down. The bad guy might be out there,” I told him quietly. “See the door? I want you to move the same time I do. Stay low.”
I pushed Patrick into the house ahead of me. Jesse was freaking out, dancing around the den screaming, “Cassidy! You’re shot! You’re shot!”
“I’m not shot. If I was shot I wouldn’t be in here. I’d still be out there. I’ll track it all later and see what happened.”
I picked up the phone and dialed 911 and reported shots fired, the address, told them it was Rusty Michael’s house so they wouldn’t need the address, then found my rifle. I thought I should wash up a little bit but I didn’t want to leave Rusty out there alone. The blood trickled down my left temple and dripped off my jaw onto my shoulder.
“Cassidy! Get in the house!” Rusty said sternly as I slipped behind the large shrub next to the patio.
“We need to head him off before he reaches his car. Let’s try around front. His car is bound to be on the road.”
“No! Get in the house!”
“I will, as soon as your backup gets here. You need my eyes.”
I scanned the trees looking for any movement that might be our shooter. I wasn’t convinced yet that it was Dirk. This didn’t feel like something he would do, even though he’d taken shots at me before. He seemed to have decided I needed a nice slow death, not something quick like a shot to the head. I wondered if maybe some sudden bout of depression had sent him over the edge. Clinical psychosis could be unpredictable and sudden.
Rusty joined me behind the shrub.
“Is Pat okay?”
“Yeah, just squished, and disappointed that he couldn’t stalk the deer.”
I caught a movement, pointed it out to Rusty. He nodded. I moved to the next shrub making my way around the house, pausing in each hiding place to make sure I was still invisible. We continued around the house carefully keeping the last known movement in view. There was a sudden rumble from behind the trees.
“He came on his dirt bike,” I told Rusty. Rusty dashed to the garage.
“No don’t!” I called after him.
Damn, I had to remember not to leave the keys in it at home.
The yellow dirt bike shot out of the trees and down to the road and Rusty took off after him on my motorcycle. Okay, now I was convinced, it was Dirk.
Dirk had the advantage of a bigger bike and less weight. I pulled out my cell phone and called the station, asking for a phone connection with the responding officers. Big John called me back.
“What’s going on Cassidy?”
“Watch for a yellow dirt bike. The green one is Rusty. They headed towards town but I don’t know that they will stay on the pavement. They’re both armed but Rusty can’t shoot his rifle from the dirt bike. I don’t know if he has his sidearm.”
I heard Big John relay something over the radio.
“Where are you?” John asked.
“At home.”
“Is everybody okay?”
“Yeah,” I said as a drip landed with a wet splat on my shoulder.
“I’m pulling onto your street. There’s two other cars responding.”
“No! Go help Rusty.”
“Too late, I’m here.”
Big John pulled up, took one look at me and picked up his radio.
“Don’t you dare!” I told him. “You didn’t give me a chance to get cleaned up.”
“Dang, Cassidy, if you weren’t up walking around I’d swear you took a shot right through your skull! What happened to you?”
“I haven’t figured it out yet. Things happened too fast.”
Big John towered over me. “I’m calling number thirty-one.” Number thirty-one was the nearest rescue squad.
“You are not.” I said, “I’m only allowed one call per week per station.”
“That’s a joke. They just say that because of all the stories.”
“I’ll fight you for the radio.” This was a joke because Big John was easily twice my size, but he took me seriously.
“Damn it, Cassidy, have you seen yourself?”
“No, but I know I’m a mess. I know I’m bleeding. If you’ll put down the radio I’ll go quietly to my room and clean up. Now go help Rusty. He might need it.”
“I’m not leaving you until I know for sure you’re okay. I can hand you over to an EMT or you can prove to me you’re not shot.”
“Okay, what can I do?”
“Tell me what happened.”
“I can’t do that until I’ve tracked the site.”
“Okay, then track the site.”
I sighed with exasperation then led him around the house and read aloud what I saw back there.
“My nephew and I were stalking deer. Patrick was stalking ahead of me and doing a pretty good job of it so I was going to set this one out and let him proceed on his own.”
“Patrick? Seven year old Patrick was stalking deer?”
“Yeah, he takes after me in that department. Anyway, I heard a shot so I tackled him. Something hit me in the head as I came down. You can see where we landed. So if I was coming down this way, the thing that hit my head had to come from that way.” I took a few steps, eyes to the ground. About six feet from where my head would have been was the deep impression left by a leaping deer. “Here’s your proof. The shot scared the deer and one of them ran straight at us and caught me in the head as it bounded away. If Dirk was in those trees where we saw him it all adds up.” I turned around and looked for the spot where the deer had come down. It was there plain as day, four deep hoof prints and the marks from its dewclaws as it bounded away again.
“You’re trying to tell me that hole in your head is from being kicked by a deer?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re not shot.”
“I’m not shot.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“John! Even Patrick will tell you what happened. If I took Pat up in the trees he could even give you the name of the man from looking at his footprints! If Patrick can do it why won’t you believe me?”
“Patrick tracks?”
I stood as tall as my five foot four inches would let me. It’s not a good idea to stand up to a cop but these guys sort of knew me. “Go help Rusty,” I said.
“My orders are to secure the house. Rusty has the help he needs. Air support has been called in. They’re on top of it. Can you ID the footprints?”
“Easily, even Patrick can ID those footprints.”
“You’re not kidding are you?”
“No, take him up into the trees. He’ll profile the tracks for you. He’ll tell you it’s the same man we tracked at the beach, that he drags his foot due to some injury. If you ask the man’s name he’ll tell you it’s Dirk.”
“He doesn’t live around here, does he?”
“No, he lives up north.”
“Whew, I don’t think we could take another little Cassidy loose down here.”
“John, just secure the house so you can go do real police work.”
“This is getting interesting. You’re telling me you have a seven year old nephew who tracks and profiles criminals and stalks deer.”
“Yeah, but you know Patrick. Rusty had him at the station two days ago. He said he saw you there.”
“Hey, Patrick!” Big John said brightly as we entered the house. “I need a tracker and Cassidy says you can ID the guy.”
“Me?” Pat said uncertainly.
“He doesn’t believe you can track good enough to ID the guy.”
“You mean you want me to tell you who did it? How should I know who did it?”
“Trust me,” I said. “You’ll know. Go show Officer Jankowski how good a tracker you are. The bad guy’s long gone. Uncle Rusty is following him on the motorcycle. You know not to step on the tracks as you go. Go read the trail to Big John. I’m going to try and wash some of this blood off.”
“You’re not going to help me?”
“If I go help you Big John won’t believe you did it all by yourself. You can do it. I know you can do it or I wouldn’t send you out there.”
He reluctantly led Big John out into the hills. He hadn’t even really seen where Dirk had stood but I knew the dirt and I knew the tracks. They would be easy to spot. The drag mark was unmistakable.
The blood was stubborn. I’d ruined my shirt. When I looked in the mirror I didn’t blame Big John for thinking I was shot. It did look like a small, round dark hole in my head, but once I’d washed it as well as I could, it looked a lot better.
Big John came in shaking his head in dismay. He sat down at the dining room table and began writing out his findings while it was fresh in his mind.
“Well, was Patrick helpful to you?” I asked.
“Umm, yeah. It was spooky. I swear, it was like watching a miniature you. He showed me where the guy camped, where he stood to watch you, where he stood to take his shot. And it all added up. I couldn’t believe I was actually listening to a little kid.”
“Where he camped?”
“He told me he’d seen those footprints at the beach yesterday, that the guy had tried to drown you when you were out surfing. I didn’t know you could surf!”
“I can’t. I was practicing. I’ve only managed to stand up on the board once. Is the camp still there?”
“Yeah. You didn’t know?”
“No. I wondered why he was up so early. He doesn’t seem like the type to be an early riser. I’m surprised the deer showed up with a camp nearby.”
“Aunt Cassidy?” Patrick interrupted. “Would you go show Mom you’re still alive. She’s laying in bed blubbering about you getting shot.”
I went to the guestroom and there was Jesse, curled up in a little ball on her side crying away. What’s worse, she was crying into the phone. She better not be talking to Mom, I thought. She was. Oh man. This day was just getting started and already it was getting flushed down the toilet. Rusty off after a gun-toting psycho. A cop in my dining room. A sister and a mom who thought I was dying. What would Wyatt come up with this morning?
I sat on the side of the bed.
“Jesse, give me the phone.” No response. “Jesse, I’m not shot! Don’t scare Mom like that. Now give me the phone!”
While I was trying to get the phone from Jesse, to calm down my mom, Wyatt walked in sleepily.
“I’m hungry. Can I make smiley face pancakes?”
Yeah, I thought, that’s what we all needed, smiley face pancakes. Let’s all sit down and put sticky syrup all over smiley face pancakes and maybe today will magically turn around.
“Just a minute, Wyatt.”
I walked around the bed, plucked the phone from Jesse’s hand and talked to my mom.
“Mom, I’m fine. Jesse just saw me all covered in blood and panicked.”
“How did you get covered in blood?” She shrieked. Mom was not ordinarily a shrieker. Jesse must have gotten her worked up.
“Mom! Has everyone gone nutso on me today? I’m fine. I’m not even bloody anymore. Jesse was upset over nothing.”
“Nothing?” Jesse shrieked with good reason. Jesse was a shrieker.
“Yeah, nothing. Would everybody please just settle down? Look at the boys. They aren’t upset. Patrick isn’t even upset and he was there!”
“You had Patrick with you and you got shot?” Mom asked.
“We were stalking deer and I didn’t get shot.”
“Are you sure?” Mom asked. “Everybody seems so sure.”
“I think I’d know if I got shot. Mom, go have a cup of coffee with Martha. You’ll feel better. I’ll call you back when things have settled down. Right now I have a cop in my dining room. A sister who thinks I’ve been shot. A nephew wanting to make smiley face pancakes and a husband off on an apprehension. And it’s not even seven thirty! Life shouldn’t get this complicated so early in the morning. I need to sort this all out.”
“Okay, dear, I’ll let you go.”
“Thanks, love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said as she hung up. One down.
“Jesse, you need something to do. Help Wyatt make smiley face pancakes.”
“Smiley face pancakes?”
“It was his idea.”
“Okay, that sounds like fun. Are you sure you’re not shot?” she sniffed.
“I’m sure. A deer kicked me in the head. I found the tracks.”
“Leave it to you to get kicked by a deer and make everybody think you’d gotten shot.”
Jesse wandered out to the kitchen in her pajamas and dashed back to her room with another shriek.
“You didn’t tell me there was an officer in your dining room!”
“There’s an officer in my dining room,” I told her, but she just glared at me. “And he doesn’t care what you wear to cook pancakes as long as you offer him some.”
Patrick got tired of all the hoopla. He went to the back yard and filled the bird feeder and staked out a spot in the bay window. I wanted to kiss him. The one cool head in the midst of chaos.
Jesse put on her best jeans and a flattering top, brushed her hair and styled it a little, redid her makeup and came out ready to play little Suzy Homemaker for Big John. Wyatt added ingredients to the bowl according to her instructions. When Rusty came home dusty and windblown he walked into a very odd house. Wyatt stood over the stove saying, “Can I put a bunny face on mine? I like to eat the ears first.”
“Of course you can make a bunny pancake,” Jesse said. “Excuse me, Officer? Would you like some pancakes?”
“Yeah,” said Wyatt. “We can make happy face, kitty cats, bunnies, doggies. I even figured out how to make a raccoon pancake but the mask is a little bit tricky.”
“What kind of doggies?” Big John asked.
“I don’t know, like bunnies except the ears go down instead of up. Oh and snowmans. We can do snowman shaped pancakes, too.”
“How about round?” Big John asked.
“Aw, he doesn’t appreciate pancake artists,” Jesse said.
“Okay, since you want a challenge, try to make a giraffe shaped pancake,” Big John said, just to make them be quiet. It didn’t work.
“Ooo, a giraffe?” Jesse and Wyatt went into a huddle. “Cassidy? Do you have a baster or a pastry bag?” Jesse asked.
“Top drawer next to the stove,” I called out as I hugged Rusty. He was disappointed. The chase had not gone well. He sat down heavily next to Big John.
“Uncle Rusty, what kind of pancakes do you want?”
“Surprise me,” Rusty answered.
Jesse got out the baster and filled it with batter. There were elaborate hand motions over the griddle.
“Oh yeah,” said Wyatt. “I think we did it. How are we going to flip it?” Then after a short wait, “Don’t break it! Don’t break it!” Another huddle. They slid the giraffe pancake onto a platter and added spots of peanut butter. Wyatt ran to get the camera and took a lopsided picture of his creation before handing it over to Big John. Rusty grinned. I was glad to see he wasn’t too depressed. A giraffe pancake could still cheer him up. Big John just poured on the syrup and dug in. Wyatt watched his creation get devoured in thirty seconds. “Would you like another one?” Wyatt asked.
“Wyatt, let’s just make a whole stack and people can eat what they want.”
Yes, I thought, brilliant idea.
“I want to make a bunny. I’m starving.”
“Okay, make a bunny. Then you can eat.”
“Welcome to the three ring circus,” I told Rusty.
“It’s better than the rest of my morning,” Rusty said. “Dirk gave me a run but he was just able to go faster. He’s still giving them a run but there wasn’t much I could do.”
“It’s okay, I was worried what might happen if you caught him anyway. You weren’t armed right. You didn’t have a way to get backup. What would you have done if you caught him?”
“After all he’s done to you?”
He didn’t have to answer. Rusty probably would not have had a choice. Against one man, Dirk would have defended himself, and Rusty would have shot back. Rusty, John and I knew what would have happened. We kept quiet.
“Is your house always this crazy?” Big John asked.
“No. Only rarely. Isn’t it great?” Rusty answered.
“Um, yeah, great. Cassidy, I know Patrick walked me through all the tracking but, you know, this would sound more valid if it came from you than from a seven year old kid,” John said.
“Okay. Well, tell them I said it then.”
“You at least need to know what he said so if you need to testify it’ll stand up in court.”
“Don’t worry. I plan on tracking it just out of curiosity. I’m sure whatever Patrick told you was right. He wouldn’t have said anything unless he was sure. There’s really a camp out there that Dirk stayed at?”
“More than one night by the looks of it.”
“I’ll go track it. I need to know what he’s been up to. This camp is all news to me.”
Rusty listened with interest. This was news to him, too. A platter of pancakes appeared and Rusty took two cats and a bunny. He pulled off the ears and ate them separately. I took what I thought must have been a dog and put jelly on it. Jesse made good pancakes. I wondered if she used the milk in the fridge.
Patrick walked in and Jesse gave him a surprised look.
“Pat, do you want a pancake?” she asked.
“The usual?” Patrick asked.
Jesse looked into the bowl.
“I’ll try.”
In a few minutes she produced Patrick’s pancakes, three small pancakes shaped like paw prints.
“Sorry, I only had enough batter for three.”
“It’s okay, I already ate. Aunt Cassidy made eggs and toast.”
Big John looked at Patrick’s plate. “What kind of tracks are those supposed to be?”
“Cats. If they have claws they are dog tracks. If they are big they are lion tracks. These are small so they call them cat tracks. They aren’t quite right, but I don’t care since I’m just going to eat them.”
“Well,” said Rusty getting up from the table. “Are you ready for some action?” he asked Big John.
Big John looked over the stack of pancakes. He’d only eaten a giraffe.
“Let’s go see how things stand,” Rusty told him. “I want this guy brought in today.”
I followed him out to Big John’s squad car. So much for today’s plans. As always I told him to be careful and he said he would, but there was a hardness to his look. He brushed my bangs away from the cut on my head. All the things Dirk had tried to do to me were driving him. As they pulled away I knew he meant business.
Dirk had a long day ahead of him.
It was time to see what Dirk had been up to for the past few days. How could I have missed all these tracks? My tracks with Kelly and Strict had gone another direction, but still. I was slacking if there was a camp fifty feet from my property line and I didn’t know about it. I had to get better. Dirk was going to catch me and there wouldn’t be anything I could do. I had to do something to build myself back up. I had to be ready for a fight.
I located the camp and where he kept the bike parked. I found the place he had stood to shoot from. I stood in almost the same spot, looked down into my yard, and imagined the scene below from Dirk’s vantage point.
He had to really hate me, I thought. It drove him. It kept him awake when he would normally be asleep. He’d been awake and ready when I came out of the house at six a.m. Something was eating at him and I didn’t like what it was.
I went into the house and found a clock. Nine o’clock and I had two small boys and a sister who didn’t know what to do at my house. I caught Patrick heading for the backyard.
“Pat? Where are you going?” I asked.
He seemed melancholy. “I need to tell the deer I’m sorry. They probably think I tricked them. I invited them to come and then they got shot at. I hope they aren’t scared to come back.”
“They’ll be back. And they won’t hold it against you,” I told him.
He was outside for a long time. I guess apologies take longer than invitations.
“Cassidy, let’s go get the boys a helmet. They’d love to ride the bike,” Jesse said.
“That sounds dangerous,” I answered.
“Why? We’ll take it easy. The boys know to hang on.”
“It sounds dangerous because I want to buy Rusty a bike, too.”
“Oh, yeah, that kind of dangerous…You wouldn’t choose Rusty’s bike for him anyway. A guy wouldn’t let a girl pick out his motorcycle for him. I think there’s a rule about that somewhere.”
“Yeah, I think so, too. But what if Kelly knew exactly what Rusty would like?”
“No, I think it’s a rule, guys have to pick out their own motorcycles. Guy’s tastes in motorcycles are usually very particular. Even a guy who wouldn’t be caught dead on one knows which one he’d want if the dream machine were to suddenly appear before him.”
I nodded in agreement. “Okay, let’s go get the boys a helmet and drool over the bikes.”
“Oh, cool!” exclaimed Patrick when we walked into the motorcycle dealership.
“We’re only here for a helmet,” I told him.
“Why didn’t you get this one?” he asked pointing out a huge cruising bike. It was gold, with lots of chrome.
“That bike isn’t practical for me. I have to be able to lift it by myself. If I’m out in the hills and lose the bike I have to be able to right it to get it home.”
“How can you lift a motorcycle if you lose it?” Wyatt asked.
“If you lose it on a bike it means you tip over.”
“Oh.”
“Why didn’t you get this one then? It’s cool too.”
“I’m not racing. I’m just trying to go out in the hills without getting stuck. Kids, I shopped very carefully before selecting my two-fifty street legal dirt bike. I’m not interested in a racing bike or a cruising bike or a motocross bike. We’re here for a helmet so you can ride my wimpy little two-fifty, unless it’s not cool enough for you anymore.”
“Here’s what Rusty needs to go with your bike,” Jesse said.
Oh yeah, I thought, practical, big, black. It had Rusty written all over it. I wished it had Rusty’s approval. I was just kidding when I said we’d drool over the bikes, but here I was. Okay, helmets, just look at the helmets. Patrick and Wyatt tried on all the kid sized helmets until we’d narrowed it down to a red one or a black one.
“I like the red one,” Wyatt said.
“I like the black one,” Patrick countered.
“We only need one and it doesn’t matter what color it is,” Jesse said.
“Black blends in with shadows,” Pat said.
“Red is cool,” Wyatt said.
“Sorry, Pat, but I’m going to get the red one. Now that you mention blending in we want you kids to be visible in case something does happen.”
“Oh, oh it’s steep!” said Wyatt nervously as I drove down the hill.
“Lean when I lean,” I said heading for a corner.
He leaned but I felt his grip tighten whenever we went around a curve or came over a hill.
“Go faster!” yelled Patrick.
I sped up a little and he laughed behind me. A hill was coming up.
“Go faster!” he said again.
“I’m not going to go fast enough to leave the ground. That’s dangerous with a passenger.”
“Aw, I want to fly.”
“Not today.”
“Will you do it while I watch?”
“Okay.”
I let him off the bike and turned the bike around, drove up the road and turned around again. I hit the gas, unsure just how fast I needed to go for this particular hill. The front wheel left the ground, and the ground dropped away beneath me. Pat jumped up and down next to the road as I zipped by.
“I can’t wait until I’m big enough to do that!” he said.
When we got back to Jesse’s ranch truck I got off and gave her a turn.
“Who wants to go? Wyatt it’s your turn,” she said.
“Are you going to go fast?”
“We’ll take it easy.”
Jesse and Wyatt took off slowly.
“Aren’t you scared the bad man will come after you again?” Patrick asked.
“Not today. He’s kind of busy staying away from the police today. If they have the helicopter on his tail he’s going to have a rough time shaking them.”
“Will Uncle Rusty catch him?”
“I don’t know, Pat. I hope not.”
“Why? Don’t you want them to stop that guy after what he did to you?”
“I do want him to get caught. I’m hoping he will see all the police coming and give up. I worry about Uncle Rusty catching him. If Dirk sees one man coming after him he will be more likely to shoot or fight. I don’t want anybody hurt even though I do want him to be caught.”
“Does Uncle Rusty hate Dirk?”
“I don’t know. I hope not. I don’t. I doubt there is anybody I could really, truly hate.”
“How come you don’t want Uncle Rusty to hate Dirk? Dirk did mean things to you.”
“Hate doesn’t solve anything. It hurts the person doing the hating more than the person the hate is directed to. Just look at Dirk. He hates me and it only makes him worse. His hate is going to land him in jail and it could kill him if he isn’t careful.”
“How could hate kill a person?”
“He gets so mad he makes rash decisions. If he makes rash decisions with the police after him he could get shot down.”
“Mom sure is taking a long time to make the circle.”
“You have to go slower with Wyatt. He doesn’t like to go fast. How long has it been since your mom has ridden a motorcycle?”
“I didn’t even know she could.”
“I hope she remembers how it’s done. The shifting is a little different than a car.”
Late in the afternoon Rusty came bumping down the road. I’d left a note on the fridge telling him where we’d be and what we were doing.
Jesse took more turns on the bike than I did. I had to rest between runs and after a while it was a fight to stay awake while Jesse was out riding.
Rusty stepped out of the Explorer arms open wide.
“I’m sorry babe. I wasted a day and Dirk ended up losing us in L.A. traffic.”
We sat in the bed of the ranch truck waiting for Jesse to get back with Wyatt. Patrick was casting around the truck for tracks. I didn’t have the energy for another run.
“There’s a motorcycle at the dealership that has your name written on it,” I told him. “I was so tempted to buy it so we could go riding together.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because there’s a rule. Guys have to choose their own motorcycles. Besides, most husbands wouldn’t want ten thousand dollar surprises to turn up in the garage suddenly. Whether or not you get one is your decision. But I do wish we could go riding together.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do. Anything I do I’d rather do with you.”
“You would?”
“Rusty, you’re acting like I only married you so I’d have a roof over my head! I married you because I love you twenty-four seven. When you’re gone I miss you and when you’re here I want to be with you.”
He looked at me as if he was trying to figure out if I really meant it.
“Where’s Pat?” he said.
I glanced around.
“He was looking for tracks.”
“He probably found some.”
“Oh shoot, I don’t have the energy for this.”
Rusty stood up in the bed of the truck and looked around, then hopped down. I grew a little concerned when he held out his hand for me to jump down, too. It meant he hadn’t seen Patrick and that was odd because we could see for miles out on that flat desert. Rusty and I began a large circle around the truck watching for little boy footprints leading away.
“Over here, Cass,” Rusty called from the opposite side of the truck. I jogged over, getting a stitch in my side. Patrick’s footsteps milled around, just wandering. I followed them seeing myself at seven. Bored, just looking for some kind of trail to decipher. A trail was a puzzle and a puzzle was not to be ignored by an active mind. When he found a trail he had squatted down studying for a bit, with good reason, he’d only seen a similar trail once before and it had been old. This trail held promise. I only hoped he wasn’t trying to find the maker of the tracks.
“Rusty, keep your eyes open. He’s tracking a snake. I don’t know if he will stay back. He’s very curious about how animals move so he’s likely to get closer than he should.”
I followed the tracks swiftly until I noticed a change. I stopped and studied to make sure I was reading it right. Patrick wasn’t just walking anymore. He had slowed down and he was walking sideways, bent over. His weight was more on the front of his feet, now. He stood still watching, then walked two or three steps sideways. I calculated the distance from the snake’s track to Patrick’s footprints. It was only about five feet. I pictured him following the snake, watching its movements, watching the way each push of the snake’s body left a little ridge of sand behind.
“Give me a boost up. He can’t be far,” I said to Rusty.
He made a step with his hands and raised me until I had to use his shoulder to steady myself. I looked around. I could see Jesse making her way back towards the truck on the dirt bike. I was glad about that. She’d been out for a long time and I was beginning to think something had happened to her. I scanned every direction and at last I saw a small movement slightly off from the direction the tracks led.
“Okay, drop me, we’re close.” Rusty lowered me down so the jump down wouldn’t jar me. The tracks led over a small rise and on the other side we found Patrick, just as I imagined him, stooped over, studying the movements of a large rattlesnake.
“Patrick! Get back!” Rusty scolded. “Do you know what that is?”
“Yeah, it’s a rattlesnake. Isn’t it cool?” Patrick answered bending over, watching intently.
The snake continued on its way. It didn’t seem concerned about being followed by a little human.
“It is cool, but also very dangerous,” I answered.
“Wait’ll I tell Elan! He’ll think it was cool too. I saw a snake track when I was with Chase but we didn’t know what kind it was. I need to figure out what kind this one is.”
“Memorize the pattern on its back and the shape of its head and you can look it up when we get home. But we’ve got to go. Your mom is back at the truck again.”
“Do we have to? I never got to track a real live snake before.”
“I know, Pat, but rattlesnakes can be deadly. You’re lucky this one doesn’t mind you being close. I’m surprised he isn’t rattling at you.”
“I want to hear him rattle! I never heard a rattlesnake before.”
“Nope, you’re not going to hear it today either. When they rattle they are saying, ‘back off or I’m going to bite you!’ and believe me, you don’t want a rattlesnake to bite you. Now leave him alone and let’s go home.”
He left the rattlesnake behind reluctantly.
“What do rattlesnakes eat?” Patrick asked as we walked along.
“Small animals.”
“How to they catch them? Mice are fast and snakes are slow.”
“You’re lucky you only saw that snake while he was moving slow. They can move fast when they need to. They can go down in burrows and find mice and baby rabbits down there.”
“They can’t eat baby rabbits! Baby rabbits are… cute.”
“Sorry kiddo, that’s just a fact of life.”
I did okay while I had the distraction of the search but walking back was rough. I was winded and had to stop frequently. The day was taking its toll on me. I climbed back into the bed of the truck where I could sit down and catch my breath.
“You need to slow down,” Rusty said.
“I was slowed down until Patrick went missing.”
“How many times did you go out on the bike?”
“Just twice. Jesse went more.”
“Yeah!” Patrick said. “And she flew! Mom won’t go fast. It’s boring when Mom drives.”
Rusty gave me a disapproving look.
“He asked me to go faster,” I said defensively. “We had a great time.”
“I wish I could have joined you. I’d have accomplished more riding all over the hills than I did chasing Dirk. But at least I knew he was far away from you. I was glad the rest of your day was relatively safe.”
“Uncle Rusty, are you going to take a turn? Can I ride with you?” Patrick asked.
“Okay, one quick one and then we need to get dinner.”
“Will you go fast?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been over this road.”
As he took off with Patrick holding onto his belt loops Pat asked, “Will you fly?”
They weren’t gone long and Patrick got off the bike grinning broadly. I guess Rusty went fast enough.
“What do you want to do on your last day here?” Rusty asked.
Patrick’s eyes got big, “You mean we get to choose?”
“Well, within reason. It’s up to your mom.”
“I want to go to San Diego!” Pat said irrefutably.
“That’s at least an overnight trip. You’re supposed to go home to the ranch tomorrow.”
“So? We can go home from San Diego,” Pat had this all worked out.
“We can’t just drop in on Rusty’s parents!” I said. “Five people is a lot to deal with.”
“They said to come back whenever I could,” Pat argued.
It was true, Rusty’s parents would love having the boys. The boys could practice swimming in the pool. I just hated to surprise Bill and Bev like this. I looked at Rusty. Rusty looked at me. We both looked at Jesse.
“What do you think, Jess? Do you want to go visit Rusty’s parents?”
“Wow, this is certainly a surprise. You don’t want to go to the beach again? Or an amusement park? Or the zoo?”
“No, Bill and Bev don’t have any grandkids. They have this cool attic full of books and toys and they have a pool and a pool table. And Cody will teach me how to ride a skateboard and Aunt Cassidy can go surfing. Cody’s teaching her how.”
I think the prospect of seeing Cody in swim trunks swayed her. Now we all looked to Rusty.
In a way a trip to San Diego was just what I needed. I thought I’d last about half an hour walking an amusement park or a zoo.
“Oh! Patrick! Look how much you’ve grown!” Bev squealed as she rushed out the front door. “And Wyatt! It’s good to meet you. How old are you?”
“I’m five,” Wyatt said from behind Jesse’s legs.
“Can I show Wyatt the attic?” Patrick asked.
“Most certainly. I got all the toys out and put some of the books away,” she said with a wink. Last time we had visited Patrick got his hands on a paperback that wasn’t exactly rated G.
As the boys ran upstairs Bev turned to Jesse. “And you must be Cassidy’s sister. I’m Bev. Make yourself at home. Maybe Cassidy can show you around.”
We found the boys in the attic. Wyatt was playing with Rusty’s old toy cars and Patrick was heading for the stairs down. He had a thick book in his hands.
“Look, Aunt Cassidy! It was a western diamondback rattler! See? The pattern on his back is exactly the same as the one in the book. And it says they live in the desert and they are out in the daytime and they are one of the most dangerous rattlesnakes. Cool! Will Chase be here for dinner?”
“Chase has an open invitation and reads minds so he probably will.”
“What was a diamondback rattler?” Jesse asked.
“I tracked a rattlesnake! While you were out riding the motorcycle I tracked a snake, just like this! Isn’t it cool!”
Jesse turned to me. “You let him track a rattlesnake? Are you nuts!”
What could I do? If I admitted Patrick got away from me I’d be in trouble for not watching him. So I just said, “We were careful. He didn’t get close to it.”
“Next thing I know you’re going to teach him how to cook and eat gopher snake!”
Patrick jumped on that one, “Oh yeah, can we? Will you show me how to catch a snake? A harmless one?”
“No!” said Jesse. “I was being sarcastic.”
“But I might have to know how to catch a snake. What if I’m lost in the mountains and all I can find to eat is a snake? I might have to know these things.”
“Pat, when you were following the rattlesnake it went pretty slow, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, if you know a snake is harmless and you have to catch it, just don’t scare it. Sneak up on it like you are stalking and when you catch it be gentle. Some snakes don’t even mind being caught if you are gentle. If they get scared they can be real fast, so if you scare it be prepared for a fight. You have to know it’s harmless first, though. A poisonous snake could kill you.”
“I’m going to read this book. I’ll find all the harmless ones.”
“It just amazes me what a reader that boy is,” Bev said behind us.
Patrick was a reader even before Jesse knew it. She puffed up proudly when Bev praised her son.
Not to be outdone in the wildlife department Wyatt chirped, “I swam with fishes!”
“Oh! You did? You must be a good swimmer.”
“I’m going to be a surfer like Aunt Cassidy! I’m not scared of fishes.”
“An admirable goal,” said Bev. “Oh, it’s so good to have little ones in the house again! I can’t wait…”
“Mom, can I talk to you?” Rusty interrupted.
“Of course,” Bev answered following him down the stairs.
I followed. I wanted to find out how Rusty felt about the subject of grandkids.
“Mom, please… I know it’s tempting to talk about the possibility of grandkids… but now isn’t a good time. You almost had a grandkid. We didn’t even know Cassidy was pregnant before she lost the baby. So, can you just enjoy the boys? I invited them down because I needed some activity. Some kid activity. It’s going to be hard to send them home tomorrow.”
“How long ago was it?” Bev asked.
“She’s been home about a month.”
“What are you doing forcing her to deal with company on top of what she’s been through?”
“Jesse knows not to expect big meals and a spotless house. I’ve been bringing meals from town when I come home from work. Jesse cooks, too. It’s been a good distraction. We all went to the beach this week and Cassidy got to surf. She stood on the surfboard for the very first time. That’s what made Wyatt decide he wanted to be a surfer. It helped him overcome his fear of the fish and Cassidy taught him the basics of how to swim. She can do almost anything for short periods of time.”
“Maybe I should cancel the volleyball tonight.”
“That’s not necessary. Just let Cass sit when she needs to. Don’t push and she’ll be fine.”
Jesse was in for a treat. Rusty and Cody both battling it out in the pool over the volleyball net.
I joined Jesse and the boys in the attic.
“You can make beds on these mattresses,” I showed her the pile of comforters. “I love sleeping up here on the balcony but I don’t recommend doing that with the boys here. The bathroom is halfway down the hall on the left. Rusty and I will be in the next room down. The bedroom on the right is Cody’s and should probably have a warning sign on the door. Bev won’t be upset if you find things for yourself in the kitchen. Remember, the backyard is all pool so the boys need an adult out there with them. Come here,” I said leading Jesse downstairs. I took her to the guestroom where Bev had hung pictures of the kids growing up. “Here’s pictures of Rusty when he was little.”
There was one of Rusty graduating from kindergarten and one with a school picture for every year from kindergarten through high school.
“Doesn’t it make you wonder what your baby might have looked like?” Jesse asked.
“Yeah, someday maybe I’ll find out.”
“Look at this expression,” I said pointing to a picture of Rusty being tackled by another kid in Junior High football.
Jesse looked and looked just like I did when I spent any time at all in this room.
“Ohmygod,” Jesse exclaimed. “Here’s what he looked like when he graduated from academy.”
He looked so young. He had to have been twenty-two. He couldn’t start academy until he was twenty-one. I wondered how much of his aging was my fault. Rusty was still handsome. Women of any age would find him attractive because he was almost ageless, but seeing the contrast between graduation and today was disconcerting. When I turned around Bev was standing in the doorway.
“I like to look, too,” she said. “It’s all good times.”
“Rusty looks so young at graduation,” I said.
“They always do. If you look closely some of those guys are forty but you wouldn’t guess it. They are so set, so ready to go out and be real cops. You see the same guys after a few drug busts and a few major car accidents and they look different. Reality leaves tracks on men. Women, too. Women more on the inside than the outside.”
Maybe that’s why I had changed so much. Maybe reality was leaving tracks inside me.
“You’ve seen a lot, are the changes for the better?” I asked.
“It depends on how a person chooses to use them. Some become bitter and hard. When they do they look bitter and hard. Some develop a sense of humor to deal with the harshness of the job. You see it in little laugh lines around the eyes and a gentler attitude.”
I didn’t know what to say. How had I changed Rusty? That’s what I wanted to know.
“Cassidy, I see the question. Are you worried about the answer?”
Yes, I’m terrified, I thought. What if I’m slowly killing him? What if I really am making him into an old man before his time?
“What do you see when you look into his eyes? Have you ever seen anything there besides love?”
Yeah, I’ve seen lots and lots of worry. I’ve seen worry about my safety. Worry about my health. Worry about what I might choose to do in spite of what was safe. Worry about what other people might do to me. I’ve seen sadness and now even mourning. And I’ve seen joy, pure, simple joy, passion and longing. And love.
“Do you want to know what I see?” Bev asked. “I’ve never seen Rusty happier than when he’s with you. There’s a contentment that wasn’t there before. He enjoys you. When you move he watches you. When you talk he listens to you, even if you’re not talking to him, even if you’re in the next room. When you’re away he misses you and when you’re near he reaches for you. He’s attuned to you. That doesn’t happen without love.”
I decided I’d have to find the answer myself. I knew Rusty loved me. The question was whether his love for me was good for him or not.
We all gathered in the living room to visit and Patrick immersed himself in the field guide. Wyatt had found art supplies and was drawing something. The conversation turned to Tony and Sandy and Cody.
“I hate to think of him in twenty years, still riding around town on that old skateboard, still hopping from one job to another at Mission Beach. He’s got his degree now. He could be doing something useful. But what is he doing? Renting kayaks to tourists, and having his picture taken with every girl who walks by. He’ll never make a living renting kayaks,” Bev said about Cody.
“Maybe he sees what Tony does and knows it’s not the life for him. He sees his degree as a ticket to office monotony.”
“Then why did he major in business?”
“Because it’s the subject his mind could understand. The fact that his heart and his mind don’t run along the same lines kind of got lost in the doing of it. Now he needs to find a way to get them to match up.”
Patrick, always the logical thinker suggested, “If he is good at business and skateboarding, he should open a skateboarding school, or a surfing school. I know he’s a good teacher, too. He taught me to ride a bike and roller blade.”
Cody was a puzzle, a very handsome, likeable puzzle. The one puzzle I didn’t have to figure out. That was his job. He came home with his usual boisterous racket, skateboard strapped to his back, carrying his bicycle up the stairs and into his room. When he was at home it always stood at the end of his bed. There were high fives all around for the boys. When he hugged me he stepped back. I knew I’d lost weight but I hadn’t thought much about it.
“I thought I told you to stay out of trouble,” he said.
“It’s good to see you, too,” I answered.
It was one thing Rusty and I hadn’t planned on when we brought Patrick to visit Rusty’s family- the endless explanations. Bev had heard it; there was still Cody, Bill and Chase to go. I doubted Sandy would notice. She would talk shopping with Jesse.
The house gradually filled up as people came home. Rusty’s appearance was reason for a party at his parent’s house. The guys grouped around the barbecue grill and Jesse and Sandy visited under an umbrella beside the pool. Bev came and went from grill to table to kitchen. Wyatt wanted to swim with the fishes again.
“But there aren’t any fishes in the swimming pool,” I told him.
“It’s okay, I can swim without fishes.”
We went to the shallow end and I helped him float and learn to tread water. Then we tried again to make some progress with forward motion. Patrick watched from the side of the pool. He was taking notes. He was studying swimming the same way I had studied surfing, watching the techniques so he could try them later.
Later Patrick slipped into the pool and tentatively felt for the depth of water where he could practice but still touch bottom. It took him a long time to make his way the short way across the shallow end but each time he tried it he got farther faster. I was still working with Wyatt trying to find the stroke that would carry him three feet in some sort of efficient manner. He would understand the motion when I did it but when he tried to do it by himself he just wriggled around in the water, not making much headway. Still, he was getting comfortable in the water. He wasn’t afraid to try.
After the barbecue the adults took over the pool. Patrick and Wyatt were designated goalies.
“There aren’t goalies in volleyball,” Patrick said.
“Okay, then you get to be the ball boys. When the ball leaves the pool it is up to you to get it back in play.”
“I want to play volleyball,” Patrick said.
“Pat, you’ll get tromped on, trust me, they tromp on me,” I said.
And boy did they. I had to sit it out. The guys got too competitive for me.
There was a movement next to me and Chase sat in the chair beside me.
“How’s business in Joshua Hills?” he asked.
“Slow, I hope.”
“You still tracking for Strict?”
“I haven’t been called out in a month.”
“That’s unusual. So, when you did go out, did you find your man?”
“Yeah, it was an easy search.”
“But…”
“But, what? It was an easy search.”
“Usually when you tell me about a search you tell me how long it took, how far you hiked, what the conditions were.”
“Okay, the guy had only gotten a few miles off the trail. He got turned around, called his friends to help him out of his spot. They couldn’t locate him so they called Strict. This guy was a simple tracking call. Patrick could have done it. Elan could have done it. You could have done it with your eyes closed. He just busted through the undergrowth. I hardly had to watch for tracks. He was a good boy and found a place to wait. We found him. It’s that simple.”
“I know they’ve had calls down there.”
“You’ve called Strict. You check up on me, just like you check up on Patrick at the ranch.”
Chase looked odd, halfway amused, halfway concerned. He knew more than he was letting on. He gave me a ‘just a second’ look, reached behind him and yelled, “Gotcha!”
Patrick jumped about three feet up in the air and came down with an, “Aww, rats.”
“Strict wouldn’t tell me why you were off his call list. He said it was personal.”
“He probably didn’t want to have to explain it all. I had a few problems on the trail.”
Patrick accidentally came to my rescue. “Chase, I tracked a western diamondback rattler!”
“How do you know? Did you ask him his name?”
“No, I remembered what he looked like and looked him up in a book.”
“So, what does a rattlesnake track look like?”
“It looks like a wide line in the sand when the snake is going straight. When it turns or it is looking around it looks like a hose laid there, except the patterns are more scattered than a hose would be. It was cool! I never saw a rattlesnake before!”
I got up and fixed Chase a plate, pulled a beer out of the refrigerator and set it down in front of him. He and Patrick were talking tracking. I quietly went to the guestroom and closed the door. Why did Chase’s questions bother me so? It wasn’t because I didn’t want to explain it all to a guy. It had a deeper reason than that. After lying there a while I thought it was because, when I admitted I had the miscarriage, I felt that empty feeling again.
After a while there was a knock on the door.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“Sandy,” the voice said.
I cracked the door. I didn’t want to be rude to Rusty’s sister.
“You okay?” she said.
“Chase wants to know why I’m off Strict’s call list.”
“He knows. He was feeling you out, seeing how hard you were taking this.”
“I don’t even know myself. Sometimes I am fine with it and at odd times it hits me and I can’t even talk about it. I didn’t want to be pregnant. So you’d think I’d be glad to be free of that. But I can’t be.”
One of these days I wanted to go to my in-law’s house without a problem. Before when we’d gone there it was to put trouble behind us. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes we found more trouble in San Diego than we’d left behind us in Joshua Hills. Someday I was going to return and we were just going to be happy together. I was determined.
It was rough saying goodbye to the boys. Rusty had playtime with them in San Diego. He enjoyed watching me work with the boys in the pool. He played tag with them and watched as they rode Cody’s bike up and down the street. He hugged me tight when they switched the luggage from the Explorer to the ranch truck and drove away. The boys looked sadly out the window of the truck as they headed back to their ranch life. The gloom descended on Rusty again and we went into our quiet house.
A week passed with the only activity happening around the house being my boisterous sheltie demanding to be let in and out. We attempted the agility course, but I still couldn’t run it. I walked him through it.
I walked up to the camp Dirk had left behind. I doubted he was stupid enough to use it but I had to check. The camp was cold but there were signs of Dirk’s passing around the house. A chill went up my spine. The tracks weren’t fresh but they were put there after the chase.
I got worried enough about my recovery to go back to my doctor. Would I ever be back to my old self? I asked. He said it had only been six weeks, that even a normal surgery should take eight weeks to recover from. A rupture like I had, the shock I’d been in from blood loss took a toll on many different parts of my body. I was told to have patience.