It was just after two o’clock when Riley pulled up in her black Outback, two yellow kayaks secured to the roof rack. The screen door opened, and Fiona and Edy came out, both wearing T-shirts and long shorts. Edy jumped off the porch and ran to the car window, stopping short when Riley rolled down the window. Her mouth opened and she stared at Riley. “I know who you are,” she said.
Riley swallowed uneasily but kept her smile, glad for the sunglasses that concealed the alarm in her eyes. They were, she knew, an unusual golden brown and didn’t look any different now than they did when she was in fur. “You do?”
“Yeah. You’re the therapist who works with Dr. Spencer. I met you that day with the worms. You don’t remember?”
Riley breathed a sigh of relief. “I certainly do. I was waiting to see if you remembered me first. But promise you won’t tell Dr. Spencer I was hanging out with you and your mom today,” she said, loud enough for Fiona to hear. “I’m sort of playing hooky from work. Dr. Spencer thinks I’m home with a stomachache. If she finds out I took off to go kayaking she’ll—”
“Fire you?”
“Exactly. So, this has to be our secret, okay?”
Edy grinned and looked back at her mother.
“Don’t worry,” Fiona said. “Edy and I have already had that conversation. She’s pretty reliable…you know, as far as kids go.” Fiona’s hair was down, and she tucked it coyly behind her ear and gestured with her head. “Come see the turtles.”
“Can I really?” The idea of seeing them after all these years delighted Riley. During her nocturnal investigations of the property the other night, she’d discovered a shallow pen about ten feet long, maybe six feet wide. It was made from wood and screen and looked like something Fiona might have built to contain them. At one end was a slatted board serving as a ramp to a kiddie pool, and at the other loomed a giant mound of sphagnum moss and leaf litter. She remembered the turtles dishing up moss with their heads and flipping the stuff over their backs so that only their faces were visible while they kept watch on the world. Riley had excitedly sniffed around the perimeter of the enclosure, disappointed when she realized their scent was hours old and that Fiona had probably taken them inside for the night. “I’d love to see them,” she said.
Fiona gestured with her head. “Then come on. They’re out back.”
Riley cut the ignition and got out, reminding herself to pretend she’d never been here before, which was kind of hard considering that over the past week she’d come to know the layout of this land better than they did. “Should I walk around?” she asked.
“No. Come through the house. I want to show you something.”
Riley hadn’t expected to be invited into the house. She suspected that Jim Barrett wouldn’t want company coming in his absence.
Fiona went back inside, and Edy walked with Riley, swinging her arms happily at her side. “My mom told me you two used to be friends,” she said, seeming so overjoyed by the company that every few steps she skipped. “How old were the turtles when you met them?”
“Really little. They’d just been born.”
“You mean hatched.”
Riley laughed at the correction. “Hatched. Right. They were hatchlings. Maybe…oh, I don’t know…this big,” Riley said, making a circle with her fingers as they walked to the porch. “Maybe two, three inches. And then by the next summer they doubled in size.”
“Nature makes turtles grow super-fast, because when they’re tiny they get eaten.”
“Hmm…that makes a lot of sense.”
“Well, wait ‘til you see them now!” Letting go of Riley’s hand she rushed ahead, running up the steps of the planked porch with its peeling paint to hold the screen door open for Riley.
Fiona had done a decent job of cleaning up the inside. Riley glanced at the familiar living room and Jim’s easy chair, raising her lip in a snarl as Edy led her to the kitchen.
In her haste to get home and get the kayaks mounted, Riley had forfeited lunch. The wonderful smell of something baking made her stomach growl. Riley pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and looked around. The white refrigerator was new, but all the other fixtures looked original, including the white porcelain stove with its six burners. Vintage appliances were back in style, Riley knew. People were paying good money for the old ones, and she’d even seen expensive reproductions for sale. The glass-door cabinets had been repainted, and above the deep farmhouse sink was a large window that looked out to the pasture. It was through the curtains of this window that Riley had seen Fiona doing dishes and being chastised, her shadowed figure visible only from the shoulders up.
Riley smoothed a hand over the white enamel of the stove. The surface was warm to the touch. “Nice stove,” she remarked as Fiona came out of a walk-in pantry carrying a plastic shoebox-size container.
“Isn’t it? The kitchen’s my favorite room. I’ve done the most work in here. And in Edy’s room. I really need to refinish these floors but…I just haven’t had the energy.”
Of course, she didn’t. Depression was a motivation-zapper. Fiona set the container on the kitchen table. The lid had holes, and she removed it to expose what looked like a dozen Ping-Pong balls, half buried in a mixture of soil and vermiculite.
“Ping-Pong balls?”
“Snapping-turtle eggs.”
“Really? Round like this?”
Edy slipped between Riley and her mother and looked in the container. “I’m the one who found them.”
“She did,” Fiona said. “In June after church one day.” She glanced at Riley. “Remember that waterfall you and I used to hike to?”
“How could I forget?”
“Well, Edy noticed them getting bounced around. A few were waterlogged, but these were floating. We thought they were Ping-Pong balls, too, since most eggs are oval.”
Riley touched one ever so lightly with a fingertip. It was soft and leathery. “What were they doing in the water?”
“I’m thinking raccoons unearthed a nest on a slope, and some rolled down. You know how much they love to dig up and eat turtle eggs.”
“Are they good?”
“Viable? Yep. We’ve candled them. They’re growing nicely.”
“Don’t you need an incubator?”
“Nope,” Edy said. “They’re not like bird eggs. Turtle mothers don’t sit on nests and keep them warm.”
Fiona nodded. “They develop at ambient temperatures. Anything between seventy and eighty-five degrees is fine. The eggs at the bottom of the nest stay cooler and produce males. The ones on top get more warmth from the sun and become females.”
“Huh! Boys are cool and the girls are hot. What happens when they hatch?”
“That won’t be until September. If it’s still warm enough, we’ll release them in a pond. If it’s too cold they’ll overwinter indoors, eat and grow and have a head start come spring.”
Riley watched her mist the eggs with a spray bottle before putting the lid on the box again and taking it back. “You don’t have to turn them either?”
“Nope. Turning them like bird eggs would kill the embryos,” Fiona answered from the pantry. Edy had disappeared, and Fiona patted a soft-sided cooler on the counter as she emerged. “This is coming with us. I was worried that maybe you’d rushed to get here and didn’t eat lunch.”
“You worried right.” Riley laughed. “I’m fine, though. Really.”
“No, you’re not. I hear your stomach growling.” Fiona looked at her with a soft smile. “I thought you’d enjoy a modest repast outdoors, so I baked us some bread.”
“Is that what smells so good in here?”
“Yep. I made sandwiches with fresh basil, mozzarella, and some nice tomatoes from the farm stand.”
“You’re making my mouth water.”
“You make my mouth water.”
If Edy weren’t around, Riley would have gladly forfeited the repast in that cooler for a repeat of yesterday’s kiss. She wanted desperately to taste Fiona’s lips again, although she was almost as desperate to get her hands on one of those sandwiches. Fiona’s thoughtfulness made her think of how nice it was to be cared for…to have someone to care about. She assumed that Mrs. Bell, who was fond of making bread and pies, had taught her daughter how to bake over the years. The peaches on Riley’s trees were ripening, as they always did in late July, and she made a mental note to fill a bag for Fiona before the bears got to them, which was usually the case. Riley glanced at the cooler. “Thanks for thinking of me.”
Fiona raised a brow. “That’s all I’ve been doing,” she said in a low voice that Edy couldn’t hear, wherever she’d gone. They locked eyes for a moment, and then Fiona grabbed her hand and led her out the back door. “Let’s go see your old buddies.”
Riley watched as Fiona stepped into the pen and brushed away the mound of sphagnum moss covering the wood turtles, her jaw dropping open when she saw their size. They were enormous. Fiona picked one up with both hands and handed it over to her. “Gomez,” she said. “Ms. Gomez.”
“Wow…” Riley took the turtle and lowered herself to the grass, gripping the turtle between both hands and bringing it to her face as though she were about to take a bite out of that sandwich she wanted. “Gomez…hello, my old friend,” she said to the turtle. “I never expected to see you again.” Gomez cocked her head and looked at her sideways, the glint in those dark eyes seeming too intelligent for a reptile.
Fiona came over with the second turtle, and Riley spread her legs, placing Gomez between them and taking Morticia. “I can’t believe how smooth and black their shells got.” Their heads and legs had always been jet-black, with vivid lines of yellow, but as babies their shells had been more brown than black in the sunlight. “Rhinoclemmys funerea…” Riley mused.
“You actually remember their scientific name? I’m impressed,” Fiona said.
Edy ran out holding what looked to be an old photo album. “They’re called funerea because they’re all black,” she said. “Like the way people dress when they go to a funeral.”
“I know. That’s why your mom named them after the Addams Family.”
She plopped down on the grass beside Riley and opened the album.
Fiona shook her head at Edy. “Is that where you were, digging through my closet?”
“Uh-huh.” Edy nudged Riley’s shoulder to get her attention. “Look! Is this how big they were when you knew them?” She pointed to a photograph of Riley in her teens, holding a turtle in each hand. Seeing herself so young, the turtles so small, concretized the passage of time. It made her want to cry. There was another picture of her and Fiona at the farmers’ market where they’d sold Fiona’s stools, and one more of them standing arm in arm on the dock. The dock. The place where Riley’s life had taken an unbelievable turn for the worse.”
Seeing the photos stirred an emotional pandemonium. She stared for a long while, tracing her finger over the photos. “I wish I’d had pictures of us.”
“I stuck copies in one of the letters I sent.”
“Yeah…the ones I never got…”
“We could scan them for you, right, Mom?” Edy offered.
“That’d be awesome,” Riley said. “I’d really appreciate that.”
As if picking up on a shift in Riley’s mood, or maybe just a change in countenance, Fiona returned her attention to the turtles. “Hard to believe they’re twenty years old, isn’t it? Look at them smelling you!”
Gomez sniffed her like a dog as she climbed up, balancing on her thigh, while Morticia ran her nose along Riley’s bare knee. Riley stroked their necks. “They can’t possibly remember me.”
“I wouldn’t think so. But they’re always cautious around new people. If they see a face they don’t recognize, they withdraw into their shells.”
“It’s true.” Edy glanced up at her mother and giggled. “But look how cool they are with Riley. They must remember her.”
“I was seventeen years old the last time they saw me. Judging from these pictures, I’ve changed a lot since then.”
“But your scent, the chemistry of your skin hasn’t changed.” Fiona smiled. “Who knows? Somewhere in those reptilian brains they obviously sense something familiar about you.”
“I like to think so.”
Edy laid the album in the grass and jumped up. “You wanna feed them?”
“Honey, no, not now,” Fiona said. “They just had tomatoes and grapes. Riley is hungrier than they are. Another time, okay? Put that album back where you found it and get your life jacket.”
“Okay, Mom.”
“I have three vests in the car,” Riley said, “but if Edy has her own smaller one, that would be better.” She handed Morticia to Fiona, got up with Gomez, and helped put them back in the pen, wondering where they’d been the other night. “Do they sleep indoors?”
“Yep. I take them in at dusk. Even though they’re too big to be carried away, I don’t trust the foxes or raccoons not to gnaw on them. Or the coyotes,” she added.
At the mention of coyotes, Riley guiltily averted her eyes.
“My coyote wouldn’t hurt them,” Edy said as she went into the house.
Fiona rolled her eyes at Riley. “I’m not too sure about that.”
Riley waved good-bye to the turtles and followed Fiona back inside. “Thank you for this very special reunion.”
Fiona grabbed the cooler as they passed back through the kitchen and headed out the front door. One of the backseats was down to accommodate the long kayak paddles. Riley rested the cooler on top and left the door open for Edy, who came running out with her life jacket and binoculars. Riley smiled to herself. Edy was Fiona’s mini-me, for sure.
“Hey, you know what?” Edy said as she climbed in the back seat. “Your car looks like a humongous black wood turtle.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“It’s all shiny black and bright yellow with the kayaks on top.”
Riley stuck her lip out, pretending to give the idea serious consideration. “Hm. So that would make my car a Subaru funerea?”
“Gee. I don’t know if I like the sound of that.” Fiona looked over at her from the passenger seat. “But if Subaru was in the business of making hearses, it would be a perfect name for the model.”
Riley laughed.
“Let’s just call it the turtle-mobile,” Edy said.
“I like that.” Riley winked at Fiona, then started the engine and looked at Edy in the rearview mirror. “And let me tell you, this baby can move a lot faster than those slowpokes in the pen.”
Riley pulled out of the driveway and drove a mile before turning onto a dirt road.
“I thought we were going to the lake,” Fiona said.
“We are. But we’re driving around to the back. You’ll see. Not many people know about it, but the animals do. It’s where all the egrets and herons come to fish. Lots of turtles, too. We’ll see more wildlife. I promise.”
The road was steep and rocky, overgrown in parts. Riley downshifted, and for the rest of the ride the car crept steadily forward at about the speed of, well…a turtle.
The backwater was dense with vegetation. They slid the two kayaks in, disrupting a swarm of iridescent dragonflies hovering over water lilies that spread their large green pads across the surface. Yellow cuplike flowers floated on heavy stalks, blending with the watery blooms of lotus and purple pickerelweed.
Before they pushed off, Fiona opened the cooler and handed Riley her sandwich and a bottle of water. “You might want to keep these with you.”
Riley’s eyes widened. “Is it okay if I take a bite right now?”
“Knock yourself out.”
“Thanks, because my stomach can’t stop thinking about that home-baked bread.”
Riley opened the foil and took a big bite of the still-warm sandwich. “Oh, my God…this is the best!” She chewed and swallowed, then took one more bite before closing the foil and brushing off her hands. “Okay, that’ll hold me. Ready?”
“Ready,” said Edy, who sat in front of Fiona. They pushed off as quietly as they could, slicing through the glassy surface of nature’s aquatic garden and taking in a panoramic view of the afternoon’s glory as they paddled out.
It was three o’clock, and thankfully the heat wasn’t as oppressive as it had been earlier in the day. Fluffy white cumulus clouds hung low in a sky as blue as the eyes of her two companions. A hawk glided silently overhead, and from the surrounding woods came the calls of ravens raising a ruckus over something or other. Riley made good on her promise. Edy got to see egrets and great blue herons spearing fish in knee-deep water. A group of painted turtles was basking on a partially submerged log jutting out from the shore, and right away Edy rested her paddle across the kayak and grabbed her binoculars while her mother steered from behind. Riley looked over at Fiona, and even though they both wore sunglasses, Riley could feel the intensity of her stare.
“Thank you for this reprieve,” Fiona said.
“And thank you for preparing this repast. I’m going to have to finish that sandwich soon.”
“Then let’s hug the shore and do that.”
They crossed the lake, paddled into a patch of cattails, and floated without drifting while they ate.
“This place is great,” Edy said, and then something caught her eye. “Hey, look,” She let out in a loud whisper. “A snake!”
And there it was, a northern water snake swimming along the bank. “Wow, that’s a big one,” Fiona said.
“Which are smarter,” Riley asked, “snakes or turtles?”
“Turtles,” Edy said immediately.
Riley turned to Fiona for confirmation, and Fiona nodded. “She’s right. The cobra might be an exception, but turtles are smarter. Maybe because their lives are more involved. I suppose every animal is as smart as it needs to be.”
“Hmm…it’s amazing, isn’t it, how everything knows what it needs to know to survive.” But surviving and living were two different things, and it tore Riley up to think that Fiona was only surviving—a captive in a way—and not free to really live at all.
While they ate, Riley asked Edy about her new school—what she liked about it and what her favorite subjects were—but Edy seemed more interested in knowing more about Riley.
“Where do you live?” she asked.
“Not far from here.”
“In a house?”
“Yep.”
“Are you married?”
“Edy!” Fiona said. “Where are your manners?”
Riley laughed. “It’s okay. No, I’m not married, Edy.”
“You live alone?”
“I do.”
“Do you have any pets?”
Riley decided to bait her. “Just the coyotes who live on my property.”
“Really?” Edy’s face lit up. “Do you see them?”
“All the time.”
“I have a coyote, too.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that,” Riley said. “Tell me more about him.”
“It’s a girl.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do. She’s beautiful. And very smart. She listens to me pray at night, and then we talk.”
“She talks?”
“Well, not out loud, but she understands my words, and I kind of hear what she’s thinking. We communicate with each other.”
Fiona shot Riley a look of concern.
“Does your dad know about your coyote?” Riley asked.
“No way!”
“Why not?”
“He’d kill her.”
“How?”
“He’d shoot her…or set a trap…like he’s planning on doing anyway.”
Fiona looked more uncomfortable than concerned now. She squirmed, adjusting herself in the kayak seat. “I know what you’re thinking. How could I ever be with someone who hunts for sport, right? It’s so against my beliefs…but I didn’t know he was a sport hunter when we got married,” she said, as though ashamed and exonerating herself.
“Has he done a lot of trapping?” she asked, hoping to estimate Jim’s skill level.
“Not much. Hunting, mostly. You know how the property is in Lenox. The houses are lakefront, and there isn’t much private land around them. But after moving here and clearing out his uncle’s stuff, well…he’s suddenly gung-ho about fur trapping. It’s very upsetting for me and Edy, but we’re not in a position to argue.”
“I hate him,” Edy said. Riley expected Fiona to come to Jim’s defense and say something like you shouldn’t hate your father, or that’s not a Christian thing to say, but she kept quiet.
Talking about Jim and their strained family relations was only causing tensions to rise. Fiona had seemed so relaxed, and Riley didn’t want to ruin their outing. “Well, don’t worry too much about that coyote,” she said to Edy. “Your new friend might end up outsmarting your dad. Coyotes are clever, you know. They don’t call them tricksters for nothing.” And then, as if on cue, a gaggle of honking geese flew in, giving Riley an opportunity to quickly change the subject. “Whoa! Look at the geese flying in.” She pointed to the middle of the lake where the birds came down with their wings held out, feet skidding across the water.
“That’s so amazing,” Fiona said, as happy as Riley for the distraction. “They look like planes on a landing strip.” And like old times, Fiona couldn’t resist calling out to the birds in their language.
She’d always been great with duck and turkey imitations, and her honks weren’t half bad. The sounds coming out of her made Riley crack up. “I don’t recall you ever honking.”
“Honking and hinking,” Fiona said.
“Hinking?”
“Yes. That’s how you speak goose. They honk and hink. Like this.” Fiona called to them again, and when they answered back, Riley laughed even harder.
“Let’s paddle out to them,” Edy said.
“Yeah, come on, Fiona. I’ll race you two.”
Fiona shot her that old familiar look that told her all bets were on. They’d just finished eating, and Fiona quickly stuffed their garbage in the cooler.
“Hurry up, Mom.”
“Okay, okay. I’m hurrying.”
Riley paddled out first. She looked back at Fiona, her lips in the shape of an O, and started cooing like a pigeon for old time’s sake. Now it was Fiona’s turn to laugh, and she laughed so hard the kayak went in a circle.
“Mom! Pay attention.”
“Aye aye, Captain.” Fiona grinned at Riley, working hard to catch up.
Riley slowed down, and just as the other kayak came up alongside her, she heard Fiona quacking. Riley quacked back. Edy looked between them and rolled her eyes. “You two act like kids. No wonder you were best friends. You’re two peas in a pod.”
“Yep. That was us. Two peas in a pod.” Riley looked across to Fiona. “But then the pod broke, and the two peas rolled their separate ways.”
“More like someone tore the pod apart and threw the peas in opposite directions,” Fiona said under her breath.
When they reached the middle of the lake, they stopped paddling, content to float and quietly observe the geese and the splendor of the dwindling day. The breeze was soft, the afternoon sun sparkling like diamonds on the rippling water. Fiona was leaning back on her elbows now, her head to the sky, the warmth of the sun on her face. With sunglasses on, it was hard to tell if her eyes were open or closed. Riley sighed contentedly, her thoughts drifting along with the kayak. She felt like she was in a wonderful dream. And this had always been her dream—to be with Fiona again.
It seemed that Fiona was having the same thought, because in a low, soothing voice she broke the silence and began to sing. “Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily…life is but a dream.”
The words hit Riley with the intensity of an epiphany. Row, row, row your boat…gently down the stream…Such a simple song, but the lyrics seemed somehow instructional, like an owner’s manual for enjoying the ride of life. The message held a hidden wisdom that struck a deep chord in Riley. How many times had she sung the song as a kid? But today as Fiona sang, she was hearing it, really hearing it, for the first time. Life was but a dream, wasn’t it? A dream that was over before we knew it. So what was the point in fretting, fighting the current, forcing your way upstream? Taking life too seriously would only weigh you down, sink your boat in the end.
The sound of Edy joining in pulled Riley from her private thoughts.
“Sing with us,” she said. And Riley did, the geese and egrets and great blue herons lifting their heads in response to the serenade echoing on the lake.
Maybe the song was meant to tell us that a well-lived life was all about attitude, about enjoying the dream, taking things in stride. About letting go and allowing ourselves the wonder and merriment of the ride downstream. That’s what she wanted to do for Fiona and Edy—end the nightmare, turn their boat around, so that they could go gently and merrily down that stream…in this life that was but a dream.