Chapter 27

 

My body still ached from the tumble down the gravel embankment, but I felt as if I wasn’t giving the girls enough attention, and I didn’t want to take them right home after such a serious conversation. The ibuprofen had helped a lot. Much to my own surprise I heard myself say, “Since the meal was free, why don’t we spend the money to go canoeing.”

Both girls perked up. “I want to do that!” Sunny was now grinning for real. “Where can we go?”

“There are canoes to rent at Turtle Lake,” I explained. “It can’t be too much for an hour.”

“What about Paddy?” Star asked.

“He’ll be fine at home for that long. He’d be no use in a small boat anyway, so this is a perfect day to do it. And it’s so hot; it will feel good to be on the water.”

After we finished eating, we drove down Kirtland Road, and the turnoff to the boat livery was well marked. I wasn’t sure how we were going to manage with three people, but the young woman, probably a college student, operating the rental booth suggested Star take a kayak, and that Sunny and I could use a canoe. “That way you can all paddle,” she explained.

She looked askance at my bandaged arm.

“It’s just a scrape,” I assured her.

We took off our shoes, donned life jackets and with some help from the girl managed to get the boats into the water from the sandy beach without getting completely soaked.

“I’m thinking some of you are novices,” she said.

I wasn’t, and turned the canoe just enough so I could see the girl on the shore. However, for the sake of Star and Sunny I simply said, “That’s true enough.”

“It’s an easy paddle to this side of the island. See the dock?” She pointed, and I nodded. “You can disembark there for a few minutes to stretch your legs, and then paddle back. Just remember to tie up the boats, or pull them onto the beach, so they don’t float off.”

“We will,” I said.

“I don’t recommend going too far that way.” Now she pointed to the north side of the island. There’s a current where the river flows through the lake, and although it’s not really dangerous, it’s tricky unless you are experienced.”

That made me think of the drag marks I’d seen on my beach, and of the dock site at the abandoned house. “Could someone paddle down the river, if they put in below the dam?” I asked.

“In theory, sure. But I don’t know if there are a lot of trees fallen across the water, or what the current is like, or even what the depth is. Unless boaters keep a river open it tends to become unnavigable because of snags. Fishermen might clear it, though. Why?”

“I own some river property,” I answered vaguely.

“Hurry up, I’m getting hot,” Sunny said, and she splashed me with the paddle. I grinned. The fun-loving sunbeam was coming back.

We paddled out across the lake, and Star showed considerable skill at navigating the kayak. I suspected she might be a natural athlete. We easily made it to the island, and explored the shore, picking up colored stones and snail shells for a while before it was time to head back.

Despite my sore muscles, the exercise felt good, and there was a lot more splashing and laughing before we returned to the canoe livery a little less than an hour later.

The towels I now kept in the car came in handy again, and I was relieved that I could return the girls home this week without having experienced any traumatic events. Soon we were in the Jeep and headed back toward the Leonards’ home.

It seemed impossible that it was only a week earlier that their mother had been found. Except for identification, the official autopsy wasn’t even complete. I was sure Adele would have called me if the Sheriff’s Office had released any information and discussed it over the radio. She kept a police scanner in the store office.

“This was so much fun, Miss Ana!” Sunny broke into my thoughts.

“Why are you doing all this for us?” Star asked. “I mean, I’m having a great time, and I’m glad we’re making some school clothes, but you hardly know us, really.”

I looked at her, and she was giving me that same cold look she had given Paula. This week had taken a toll on both girls, but in different ways. “Hmmm. I’m not sure I can explain it completely,” I began. “When I first met you, it’s true I came to your house because the church assigned me to get to know you. But then we began to have fun together. That was all real. It is real.”

“You aren’t doing things with us because you have to?”

“Not any more,” I said. “I only have a son. I never had girls to sew and cook and giggle with. You’re definitely more to me than an assignment. Both of you.”

“You have a son?” Sunny asked.

“I do. He’s in college, almost grown up. His name is Chad.”

“Does he visit you?” Star wanted to know.

“He hasn’t been to this house yet. I’ve only lived here since spring, remember.”

“Oh. I forgot that. You don’t seem new. I mean, you don’t act like a city person.”

“Yeah, not like Dad’s friends,” Sunny put in. “They don’t care about anything except their clothes and cars and stuff like that.”

Star added, “I didn’t like that brother and...”

“Hey, wasn’t that Dad’s truck?” Sunny interrupted with a loud voice, twisting to try to catch a better look at the black pickup that had just sped past us, going south on Kirtland.

“Can’t be,” said Star. “He said he was going back to Chicago, that he had to be at work today.”

“It looked just the same,” Sunny insisted.

“There are lots of black trucks around,” I said, recalling a black truck I’d encountered all too recently.

We turned left on Sheep Ranch Road, and a few minutes later I pulled into the Leonards’ long dusty driveway. Star thanked me for the day, then quickly let herself out and headed for the trailer. Sunny, who was in the other front seat, unclipped her seat belt and turned toward me.

“I don’t miss her—my mom,” she said. “Everybody feels sorry for me, but I don’t know how to answer their questions, because I don’t really feel anything. I don’t remember her at all. There isn’t anything to miss.”

“Maybe you don’t want to let yourself feel sad,” I suggested.

“Maybe, but not really. I can’t miss her, because I never knew her. Grandma and Grandpa didn’t want to think she had run away, so they never told us what she was like. She’s like a ghost, and now the ghost can go wherever it came from and leave us alone.”

“Is that what you want?” I asked.

Sunny’s chin slipped down toward her chest. “I don’t know. I wish she had run away, because then I could always hope she’d come back, and there would be some good reason she had to go away for a while, and then we’d be together again. Now she can’t ever come back.”

“I know; it’s hard to have to give up that dream, isn’t it?” I reached my hand over to the girl. Instead of taking my hand, Sunny leaned across the space between the seats and put her head in my lap. She began to cry. It was an awkward and uncomfortable position. I wasn’t sure what would be the best thing to do. “Sit up a minute,” I said gently. I kept my hand on her thin arm, hoping she’d realize I wasn’t pushing her away.

She sat up, and I managed to slide over into her seat, lifting my legs over the gear console. She crawled into my lap, like a very little girl, put her arms around my neck, and leaned her head on my shoulder. The tears came then, and big racking sobs that shook her body. I just held her, patting her back and brushing the wisps of hair that had escaped her corn rows away from her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a few minutes. “That was stupid.”

“It’s never stupid to be sad when you lose something that’s very important to you. We all have to let that sadness out, and tears are good for that. It’s what we do next that matters.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Some people, when they have to let go of a dream, get angry and blame everyone else or act like they were cheated. Some people get depressed and stay sad for months or even years; sometimes those people blame themselves for what happened. But healthy people kind of mentally stand up, brush the dirt off their knees, mend the hole in their jeans, and decide to find out what dream is next. People like that know they have people who love them.”

“You mean, like how Grandpa and Star love me.”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“And you love me too?”

“I do, Sunshine. May I call you that?”

“Sometimes.”

“Just for special times?”

“I’d like that.”

I pulled a couple of tissues out of the box on the floor and handed them to her. She wiped her face and blew her nose.

She giggled. “I’m really too tall to sit on your lap very well.”

“Entirely too tall.” I looked up into her eyes. Mine were wet, too.

Sunny wiped a drop of wetness from my cheek with her thumb. “How did you get in my seat anyway?” she asked, but with a grin. “You can’t drive home from over here.”

“I’ll just have to push you out and walk around the car.”

“I think it’s time you go let Paddy out of his cage. I have to give my grandpa a hug.” She gave me a quick, firm squeeze, and then showed me one of her genuine “sunny” smiles. In a flash she was out of the car, and running toward the trailer. She turned and waved to me once more from the steps. Sunny was back.