Life’s perhaps the only riddle
That we shrink from giving up!
—QUINTETTE, The Gondoliers
It felt strange on Friday morning not to hear hammering. Andrew would love the peace and quiet. Early-morning painting wouldn’t disturb his summer sleeping habits as Zach’s power saw had done. Today, though, Andrew had already left for the day—the signs of his breakfasting were unmistakable. Joan put his dishes to soak with her own and retied the bread wrapper he had folded over casually. The bread was still moist enough. Just as well he got up early. Ordinarily, she’d have left before he did and missed it. He hadn’t mentioned any special plans for this morning, but he seldom did these days. The good part was that she no longer felt the need to hear them. It might be lonely when he left the nest completely, but she expected to have no trouble letting him go.
And maybe if I start doing it now, he won’t have to carry breaking away to extremes, like Rebecca. Even last night she didn’t leave her phone number. You’d think she’d trust me better by now. It’s okay. If she needs that much distance, I won’t take it from her. It’s just funny that she has no hesitation in telling me how to live.
In the sunshine of morning, she smiled at the memory of Rebecca’s long-distance hovering. Rebecca hadn’t been wrong, though, about talking to Fred. Joan made another attempt. Again, his home number didn’t answer, but he wasn’t at the station. She didn’t leave a message. She could try again from the center.
Neither Zach nor Walt had come by yet, which rather surprised her. She’d shared so many cups of breakfast coffee with Zach that she’d expected to see him early today. It didn’t matter, really, when he showed up. He was only going to drop off his bill. She was just as glad not to have to face him. And Walt hadn’t exactly specified a time. She wrote him a note asking him to bring his paint chips to her office and taped it to the front door.
No sign of Virgil, either. Well, he knew she wouldn’t be home. Maybe he’d give her his verdict on Zach’s work tonight, after the performance. Or maybe he forgot. It was a nice offer, but the porch looked and felt solid to her. She’d be surprised if he found any problems.
She ran upstairs one last time. Loving the feel of her bare feet on the floor during these hot days, she generally delayed putting on shoes as long as possible. Now she strapped on the sandals she’d been wearing the day of the tornado, slung her bag over her shoulder, and went out to face Friday.
Wispy white clouds in the brilliant blue sky offered contrast to the eye without threatening rain. The air felt dryer than it had for at least a week, and even though the sun was already beating down on her, she was comfortable in her cotton dress and sandals. She’d probably be dripping before she got to work, but it would be worth it to walk on a day this beautiful.
“Morning,” she called to half a dozen neighbors reading their papers on their front porches before the heat would make them retreat into air conditioning. Not that they all had air conditioning to retreat into. Joan’s wasn’t the only house in the neighborhood that still relied on shade and open windows, but it was in the minority. The smaller the house, the more likely it was to have boxes protruding from windows. She thought there would soon be more. Now that the tornado had destroyed some of the biggest trees in the neighborhood, some people were going to have a hard time making it through July and August.
And crossing the park these days was more like walking through a farm field than a park. Looking into it now, Joan mourned the lost trees. Contributions were already being solicited for replacements to be planted in the fall. It would be twenty years before they’d produce much shade.
She started across the street, but jumped back onto the sidewalk when a panel truck came speeding toward her, its horn blaring. It pulled up beside her in a squeal of brakes, and she saw Shoals Construction on the side and Virgil himself in the driver’s seat. What had gotten into him?
He leaned over and opened the passenger door.
“Get in,” he said.
“What?” She stood there, not about to wreck her morning walk to ride with this cowboy.
“Lieutenant Lundquist sent me. It’s your son. There’s no time to talk. I’ll tell you on the way.”
“Andrew?” She ran to the truck. “What’s the matter?” She climbed up, and Virgil pulled away from the curb almost before she could shut the door. She fastened the seat belt and shoulder harness. At the rate he was accelerating, she was going to need it.
“He’s hurt,” Virgil said. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. “Out at the old quarry. He was swimming out there. Hit his head in a dive.”
“Where is he? Where are you taking me? This isn’t the way to the hospital.”
“I’m taking you to the quarry. He didn’t come up from that dive. I left before they found him.”
“Dear God.” Please, God, not Andrew. Let it be a mistake. Somebody else. Some other mother’s son. She didn’t want to wish it on anyone else, but she couldn’t help it. “Are they sure it’s Andrew?”
Virgil nodded somberly. “He was swimming with a buddy who saw what happened and ran for help.”
“Why didn’t someone call me?”
“You were already gone when they tried. Lundquist wouldn’t leave the search. I told him I knew the route you took to work.” He took a corner too fast, and she grabbed hold of the handgrip above the door.
She tried to think, but her mind wasn’t working. Looking out the window, she thought she saw Zach Yoder driving by in the opposite direction. You’re a little late, Zach, she thought. And then, oh, God, don’t let us be too late. And oh, God, how could we not be?
“How far is it?” They were at the edge of town now. Virgil picked up speed again. He rounded a curve and flew down a hill. She hung on, physically and emotionally.
“Not far. Only a few miles.”
“I used to think the quarries were all south of here.”
“No, they’re scattered all around. This whole area is full of stone of one kind or another. I get all the gravel for my concrete business from a gravel quarry north of town. There’s lots of good limestone right under Oliver. Makes construction expensive. We’re always having to blast out basements. We drill samples so we’ll know what we’re getting into, but the stone is unpredictable. Just when you think you’re not going to have a problem, you run into a shelf of limestone right next to where you drilled.”
If he was trying to distract her, it wasn’t working. Who cares about basements? she wanted to yell at him. My son … if I still have a son … Tears filled her eyes. Her throat ached. How far did his friend have to run for help? He must have been under water a long time. Even if he lives, he’ll be brain damaged. Unless maybe the water is cold enough. Quarries are so deep, it might be. But in this weather? Oh, Andrew, how could you? I told you never to swim in a quarry. You knew it was dangerous.
Stop it, Joan. This is doing you no good. She sat up straight. Virgil was still talking. She wanted to throttle him, but she needed him.
“Indiana limestone’s wonderful building material, though,” Virgil said. “Most folks think it’s too expensive. In the long run, they’d save, but they don’t think of the long run.” He meant well, she knew.
“I saw limestone angels and tree stumps in the cemetery.” She was squeezing the handgrip so hard her fingers were starting to go numb.
“Yeah. Old-time carvers trained the younger ones.”
“Was your father one of them?” Dear God, now I’m asking polite questions. Virgil, never mind me. Just drive!
They careened around another curve.
“No, he always kept a store. So did his father. Grandpa had an old-fashioned general store, down in the Amish country. They’d act as if they were the only people who ever did a lick of work. Some of those old guys drove a hard bargain, but he never let them get the best of him.”
No wonder Virgil felt that way about the Amish, if he heard that kind of thing from his grandfather.
“Look, we’re almost there.” He pointed to enormous chunks of dark gray limestone tilted at crazy angles along the side of the road. “This is the old part of the quarry. After a woman drowned in her car a few years back, they hauled those damaged quarry blocks over here so no one else would slide into the pit. In winter this road’s really bad. There’ve been lots of accidents along here.”
Joan could believe it, especially if people drove the way Virgil did. She held her breath more than once, but the last thing she wanted was for him to slow down. Her heart beat faster when he did exactly that and turned through wrought-iron gates into the quarry. They jounced and jolted along a deeply rutted, tree-lined gravel road. Straining to peer through the trees and underbrush, Joan kept expecting the flashing lights of police cruisers and an ambulance around every bend in the road.
At last she could see through the trees to sun reflecting off water. The place was deserted.
“They’re gone!”
“They were here when I left,” Virgil said. “Parked over there.” He swung down out of the truck and pointed toward the edge of the pit in front of them, where stones jutting out over the water made an almost irresistible diving platform. “You can see the tire tracks where they left the road.”
She got out and looked where he was pointing, but all she saw were trees and weeds and rocks and water. Then a truck roared up behind them, and she whirled to see Zach’s pickup spew dried mud and gravel in their direction as it spun to a stop. What was Zach doing here? And why was he running toward her?
“Zach?”
“Joan! I’ve got to talk to you.”
“Get back!” Virgil called to him. In Joan’s ear he said softly, “I didn’t want to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“Your boy didn’t dive in. He was pushed.”
“Pushed! But who …?” Who would push Andrew into the pit, and why?
“You’re looking at him, right there.” Then louder, “Don’t come any closer.” This to Zach, who was already backing off. “That’s right, leave her alone.” For the first time Joan saw the shotgun he was aiming at Zach. “Nice and easy. You just keep going.”
Zach climbed into his pickup.
“You’re letting him go?” How could he?
“He won’t get far. The police are watching for him.” Virgil kept pointing the gun while Zach drove off and lowered it only after the curving road took the pickup out of sight.
Joan’s head was whirling, but one thing was clear. She had to find Andrew.
“Virgil, take me back to town!” she said. “Take me to the hospital!”