Hello from Renn Lake

by Michele Weber Hurwitz

  “But she’s with Amy and her mom, right?”

  “Unless she gets it in her head to go off on her own. Introduce herself to a casting director. You know your sister.”

  I do.

  Mom glances at me. “Everything okay?”

  “Sort of…I have to go somewhere. I don’t want to say where, but I promise, I’m not leaving town.”

  “It’s somewhere in Renn Lake?”

  “Yes.”

  A long pause. She studies my face. “Text me when you get there.”

  “I will. It’s not far.” I slide off the Renn Lake Rentals cap and put it on the counter, then go out.

  No cap pulled down to my eyes, no hat that I pretended was armor. One foot after the other. One thousand, eight hundred and seventeen steps. In my head, pounding on repeat: You have to do this. For Renn.

  Standing in front of Alden’s Gift Emporium: Flora, Fauna, and Whatnot, I almost smile at the pink flamingo floaties still in the window. The flamingo closest to me has one eye that’s a black dot and the other that’s a dash. Like it’s winking.

  I text Mom, then wrap my fingers around the brass door handle. I turn it, almost surprised that I can, and take the one thousandth, eight hundredth and eighteenth step.

  Inside.

  No one is there, not even Mr. Alden. The room is filled with leafy plants and flowers in pots and baskets. A worn, scratched wood floor. A red wagon holding a giant teddy bear, its paw resting on the handle. Glossy gazing balls are on metal stands. A wicker chair, a lacy pillow, and a metal bucket with pretend ice cubes line the far wall.

  “Can I help you with something?”

  Gray hair, eyes a darker gray. Crisscrossed wrinkles on his cheeks. Loose, pleated pants and a blue collared shirt, tucked in neatly.

  “Oh,” Mr. Alden says. “Hello.”

  I swallow. “Hi.”

  I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to decide what happens next. I feel weightless, but like I’m falling, sinking, drowning. I’m aching to run but I can’t anymore.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Annalise.”

  I try not to cry. I try to hear Renn telling me it’s just wood, brick, glass, and it can’t hurt me.

  Mr. Alden and I stand opposite each other for a few seconds, bits of dust floating in and out of strips of sunlight. Then I blurt, “I’m sorry I didn’t come to the funeral.”

  He touches the gold band on his finger. “I’m not much for funerals myself, to tell the truth. They’re mighty depressing. And the person who’s gone doesn’t know who’s there or not.”

  “Still, though. I should’ve come.”

  “Thank you. It’s very kind of you to say.”

  I wait for the shadow carrying baby me in its arms to appear, slither down my throat and shatter my heart.

  But there’s only the slow-turning dust, orbiting in its own starry galaxy. Instead of the shadow putting me down, what I feel is Mrs. Alden’s strong hands picking me up and soothing me.

  “Can I see it?” My words are barely a whisper. “Where I was.”

  He nods. “Of course. I knew one day you’d want to.” He motions, and I follow him through the store.

  In the back, a weathered wood door is partly open. He steps outside, into a garden that curves around the side. More plants and flowers. A bench, a trellis, and flat, sand-colored stones are scattered on the ground. Words are carved on them. DREAM. BELIEVE. CHOOSE JOY. And LOVE GROWS HERE.

  “Where was it?” I ask softly.

  He walks to the doorway and stands just inside. “Right here. We used to carry baby things. Blankets and bibs and such. The bassinet was beautiful. Handmade. One of a kind.”

  “What happened to it?”

  “After the investigation, it didn’t seem right to keep it in the store. I offered it to a family over in Jonesville. They didn’t have much money, and they were expecting. I’m sorry it’s not here for you to see.”

  “It’s very peaceful back here. Kind of…hidden away.”

  “Yes. Sometimes I like to come out here and think. Clear my head.”

  “Mr. Alden…can you tell me about that night? I think I’m ready to know.”

  He goes to the bench and sits down, pats the seat beside him. I sit too. His chest rises, then falls with a long breath.

  “It had been so busy that day. A busload of seniors from Milwaukee, several school field trips. Full up at your parents’ cabins. People in every corner of Renn Lake.

  “It was late. We had just closed and locked up. Viv was sweeping the floor, and I was at the cash register, getting everything back in order. Suddenly, a surge of water flooded this whole area, right where we’re sitting. It came out of nowhere. There wasn’t a storm. It wasn’t raining. I rushed back here, and then I saw Viv holding you.”

  I know the story. But still, not from him. “What did you think, when you saw me?”

  He gazes toward the doorway and his eyes get watery. “I thought that someone must have been in a terribly hopeless situation to leave a baby. People can do unthinkable things when they’re desperate.”

  Through the bushes in the garden, I can glimpse a bit of the lake beyond the sidewalk. “Mr. Alden…,” I start, and then stop. Do I really want to ask this? Do I want to know the answer?

  “Yes?”

  I look toward the doorway. I have to ask, even if I’m not sure I want to know. “Do you, or did Mrs. Alden, remember seeing anyone in the store that day with…me?”

  He nods, like he knew what I was going to say. “The police questioned us about that, of course. But, regrettably, no. We must’ve gone over that day a thousand times, but we never could recall seeing anyone with a newborn baby. I’m sorry.”

  “I guess I’ll never know exactly what happened.”

  “I suppose you won’t.” He folds his hands in his lap. “I’ve always thought that when we can’t find the answer to something, as much as we might want to, it’s best to accept that not knowing might be the answer.”

  “That’s hard.”

  “It is.”

  We’re silent for a few minutes. Leaves and flower petals flutter in the warm breeze. The words bubble up in me then, burn on my tongue and become so bitter I have to let them out.

  “I guess…I wasn’t wanted.” I’ve never said that to anyone. But maybe I’ve always thought it.

  “I wouldn’t look at it that way,” he says. “You may not know where you came from and why you ended up here, but believe me, you were wanted.”

  A squirrel hops through the garden, an acorn in its mouth. I had so many other questions tumbling around in my head while I was walking over. But they don’t seem to matter anymore. A stripe of sunlight falls across the LOVE GROWS HERE stone. Maybe the person who left me had a reason.

  “I’ll tell you something else,” Mr. Alden says. “Those few months my wife and I took care of you before you went to the Olivers were wonderful. Our boys had already grown up and were off on their own. Despite what happened, you were a delightful baby. I know newborns can’t smile—at least, that’s what I was always told—but you did. I’m sure of it.”

  A tear plops onto my hand.

  He offers me a handkerchief from his shirt pocket. It’s white, folded in a small square, and has a blue embroidered flower. “This was Viv’s. I like to keep a part of her next to me.”

  I dry my eyes, then hand it back to him.

  “Why don’t you hold on to it? I have more at home.”

  The handkerchief is delicate and soft. I trace the stitching with my fingertips. I need to say what I never said to Mrs. Alden. At least I can tell him.

  “Thank you. For finding me. For taking care of me.”

  He pats my hand. “We loved you like you were our own. Viv wanted to keep you, raise you herself. But we were too old. She knew th
at.” He shakes his head. “Holding a tiny baby…makes you feel like you can start all over again.”

  I sniffle. “I wish I’d known her. I wish I’d come in before—”

  “It’s all right. She knew you.”

  A yellow petal drifts to the ground.

  “She had a name for you, you know. We weren’t going to call you the ‘Alden’s Baby.’ ” He looks off. “We adored our sons, but Viv longed for a daughter. If we’d had one, we would’ve named her Margaret. So that’s what we called you.”

  Lots of tears now. The handkerchief smells like soap, and lemon.

  He picks up a brittle leaf from the ground and crumbles it between his fingers, then lets the breeze take the pieces. “Ah, well. Anything else you’d like to know?”

  Only one question left.

  “Mr. Alden, have you ever heard of floating plant islands?”

  The more I explain how plant islands work, the more I feel like roots are growing right out of my toes and anchoring me; keeping me upright, like those flamingos in the window.

  “Have you mentioned this idea to the people from the health department?” Mr. Alden asks.

  “My dad called.”

  “And?”

  I tell him what they said. He rubs the side of his jaw as I’m talking.

  “But I know we have to do this,” I say.

  “How do you know that?”

  I pace around the garden. “Because it’s helped other lakes. How can we just sit around and do nothing? We have to try something!”

  He laughs, throwing his head back a little. “You remind me of my grandfather. He was one of the town founders, you know. He fought for a lot of things he believed in. Quite a maverick.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep.” He stands, looks toward the lake. “I’m more than willing to help.”

  “You are?”

  He nods. “And if I’m not mistaken, most of the supplies you need are right here in the store.”

  “I know, I figured that. But the thing is…I don’t have any money at the moment.”

  Suddenly, my phone starts buzzing like crazy. It’s Maya, several rapid texts in a row. “I ran into Zach. He told me about Jess! What’s going on? Did your dad find her? Where are you? Zach thought maybe you were going to ALDEN’S!! Are you there? WHAT IS HAPPENING? Are you OKAY? Please tell me you’re okay. Please respond ASAP.”

  I reply: “Yes, I’m at Alden’s. I’m okay.”

  “Annalise,” Mr. Alden says when I click off my phone. “It would be my pleasure to donate the supplies.”

  I’m about to say no, I can’t let him do that, when Zach, Maya, Henry, and Tyler burst into the garden.

  “We were out front,” Maya says, grinning and hugging me. “I’m so proud of you. This is huge, Annalise. Huge!”

  I nod, folding the handkerchief and sliding it into my pocket.

  “You came in here,” Maya whispers in my ear. “Now you can do anything.”

  As quiet and calm as it was before, now it’s a blur of noise and color. Maya’s red T-shirt and silver sandals. Henry poking his lightsaber into a pot and Tyler shouting “Hi-ya!” and jabbing the trellis.

  Maya tells the boys to stop acting like crazy people, and Zach gently guides them away from the pot and the trellis.

  “But I have to fight the bad bacteria!” Tyler yells, leaping onto the bench. Henry joins him, and they wave their lightsabers in the air.

  “Guys! There’s no bacteria here,” Maya says, rolling her eyes. Then to me: “They’re obsessed.”

  Mr. Alden goes into the store. He comes back a few minutes later, carrying a stack of empty plastic trays, the kind that flowers come in, like the geraniums Dad and I planted in the window boxes outside the office.

  “These should do just fine,” he says. “Now, let’s talk about plants.”

  Zach takes one of the trays and turns it over. There are several holes, perfect for dangling roots. “Wait. Are these for the floating islands?”

  “Indeed,” Mr. Alden replies. “Annalise mentioned what you need. I believe I have some varieties that would work.”

  “You can’t give us all that for free,” I protest.

  He brushes a hand at me.

  Zach pulls a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket and offers it to Mr. Alden. “Will this cover it?” Mr. Alden doesn’t take it.

  “What are you guys doing?” Henry asks.

  Zach grins at him. “We’re going to fight the bad bacteria.”

  “Really?” Henry jumps from the bench and lays his lightsaber on the ground. “Can I help?”

  Tyler leaps off too, almost knocking his brother over. “Don’t forget about me!” He tugs Maya’s shorts. “I’m tired of the park.”

  Mr. Alden still hasn’t accepted Zach’s money, so he stuffs the bill back into his pocket. “If it’s okay with Annalise,” Zach says.

  “We’re making them now?” I say. “Here?”

  Mr. Alden shrugs. “Why not? I don’t exactly have many customers at the moment.”

  They all look at me, and I get a pang of guilt. My sister’s somewhere in Madison and Mom and Dad are freaked out, but I’m only thinking about Renn.

  “Give me a sec.” I pull out my phone and text Mom. “Anything?”

  She replies no, that Dad found the location for the audition, but so far, no Jess.

  “Do you want me to come back?”

  “Are you still doing what you needed to do?”

  I glance at Maya, the boys, then Zach and Mr. Alden, all waiting for me. “Yes.”

  “I’m okay,” Mom says. “I’ll let you know the minute I hear something.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  I slide my phone into my pocket. “Let’s do this!”

  Tyler claps and Henry shouts, “Woo-hoo!”

  Maya says to Mr. Alden, “I have some money too. From babysitting these little monsters.” She ruffles their hair. “Actually, you guys aren’t so bad.”

  “We’ll address the finances later,” he answers. “For now, let’s get to work.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Mr. Alden?” I ask. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

  “I’ll take the risk. You gotta stir things up once in a while, right?”

  He goes inside again, then drags out a big plastic bag of soil. He cuts it open and tells Henry and Tyler to lay out the plastic trays on the ground. Mr. Alden hands each of them a plastic scooper. “You’ll be the fillers.”

  “We’re the fillers,” Tyler repeats, beaming.

  Zach and I go into the store to look through the plants. There are irises and several ferns, as well as some grasses and reeds. Zach’s consulting his phone, then pointing to the plants we should use. I carry them out to the garden.

  The boys scoop and pat down a layer of soil in each of the seven trays laid out on the walkway in the middle of the garden. Zach and I add the plants; then Maya gently works the roots through the holes. She insisted on wearing gardening gloves, and Mr. Alden handed her a pair. “I prefer them too.” He grimaced. “Worms. Can’t stand ’em.”

  With every plant I secure into the soil, it’s as though the very air in the garden is shifting. Getting lighter. And Mrs. Alden is looking over my shoulder, smiling.

  We work steadily for a while. Mr. Alden brings out bottles of water and a bag of pretzels, which we devour. Maya starts singing “Down by the Bay” and we come up with rhymes, each one sillier than the last. Tyler ends the song with “Have you ever seen a goose kissing a moose?” and we’re laughing so hard, we can hardly finish.

  But eventually, we’ve used all the soil and plants. The trays are full.

  I step back to admire the seven small, beautiful islands. Each one has a slightly different variety of plants, but they a
ll look ready to go to work.

  “What now?” I ask.

  “We should set them afloat at night,” Zach suggests. “Less risk of someone stopping us.”

  Maya raises her eyebrows. “Oooh. Dangerous. I like it.”

  “How about we meet back here at nine tonight?” Mr. Alden says.

  Henry crosses his arms. “That’s past our bedtime!”

  Maya pats his shoulder. “Sorry, bud, but you guys are going to have to miss this part.”

  “Noooo!” Henry wails.

  My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Mom: “Dad’s got her. She’s fine. They’re on their way home.”

  I blow out a long breath I didn’t even realize I was holding, and my voice breaks as I tell them Dad found Jess.

  “Good, that’s good.” Maya nods, then says to the boys, “You aren’t going to miss much. You did the important part.”

  “Can’t you sneak us out?” Henry pleads. “While the ’rents are asleep.”

  “The ’rents? I don’t think so. No sneaking out.”

  “Pleeease?” Tyler says.

  “No way.”

  “Nine,” Mr. Alden repeats.

  I touch one of the plants. “I’ll be here.”

  “Me too,” Zach says.

  Maya smiles. “Me three.”

  Tyler presses his palms together. “We’ll behave!”

  Maya shakes her head. “Nope. Final answer. And don’t say a word of this to the ’rents either.”

  “Then it’s settled,” I say. Or it will be, soon.

  Mom and I are in the porch swing when the car pulls into the driveway. Jess’s face is red and puffy, and Dad’s is serious but relieved. They get out, close the doors, and quietly walk up the steps.

  Jess stands in front of Mom, arms at her sides. Black blotches of mascara are dotted underneath her eyes, and an uneven coating of makeup is streaked with dried tears. She’s wearing jeans and a white tank top.

  “Mom. Before you say anything, I want to say I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I won’t do anything like that ever again.”

  Mom sighs. “Sounds like you had some time to think during the ride home.”

  “No.” Her shoulders sag. “I started thinking as soon as we left. And don’t blame Amy, or her mom. I told them you said I could go.” She perches on the arm of a chair. “Dad’s already heard all this, but it was terrible. We waited in line for hours. There were thousands of kids at the audition and they were only picking ten. When I was almost at the front, I put the coins down on a table for a minute so I could fill out the form. When I looked back, they were gone. I was going to ask Amy’s mom for some money but I just…couldn’t. So I didn’t even get to try out.” She glances at me. “I’ll pay you back, I swear. Every single cent.”