Evening in the Yellow Wood

by Laura Kemp

  He was ten years old, which meant Dad might have abandoned us about the time he found out Pam was pregnant.

  Anger surged beneath my controlled exterior.

  This boy had gotten the father I’d wanted, the man I’d needed during my years of teenage angst. I touched my forehead, suddenly dizzy, wondering how long I could stand here gripping the porch railing on Cabin One before they got suspicious and asked me what was wrong.

  “You okay?” Jamie finally said, his hand on my shoulder.

  “Oh, sure. We just didn’t know Uncle Rob had any kids. It’s kind of a—”

  “Surprise?” Pam asked. “It was for me, too.”

  “I’m sorry,” I stammered, wanting to get to the Heap and call Mom even though she’d told me not to. “I didn’t mean to stir up bad memories.”

  Pam smiled again. “No bad memories here. “

  I wanted to ask her what sort of memories she had, exactly, and if she’d known about Robert’s wife and daughter and how many Christmases we’d spent by ourselves, but she was turning and moving down the pathway with Adam. I was grateful for the silence and didn’t stop her. I let her go, watching as the two of them grasped hands, two peas in a pod that had made their way all on their own.

  Like Mom and me.

  And for the first time in my life, I hated my father.

  “You sure you’re okay?” I heard Jamie say again. “Maybe I should walk you to the lodge.”

  I didn’t want him to walk me to the lodge, but I did want information and so put on a fake happy face and accepted his offer. Before long we were standing beside the Heap, my horrible mood complete when he let out a low whistle.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but did you drive here in that?”

  “I know it’s bad,” I snapped, unable to hide my impatience. “That’s why I need a job.”

  “Sorry.” He paused, leaned up against the Heap and crossed his arms across his chest. “We didn’t think you’d take the news about your uncle so hard.”

  “It’s okay.” I tried to steady my voice, wishing I’d majored in theatre instead of English. “Dad may have a thing or two to say to him if we ever track him down.”

  “Good luck on that one.”

  I paused, unsure if I should press him. “What happened between the two of them?”

  He sighed and adjusted his position against the Heap. I looked at his arms, nicely displayed in rolled sleeves and saw that they were strong and used to heavy labor. His face held traces of sunburn and the jeans he wore were thin at the knees as though he spent a lot of time getting out of tight spots. “Pam doesn’t say much.”

  I nodded, unable to think of another question when millions were floating like fireflies just within reach.

  “He came up here to fish. I think that’s how they met.”

  “Did she know anything about him?”

  Jamie shrugged. “Only what he told her. And I have a feeling he didn’t come clean. Why else would he take off just after Adam was born?”

  I gritted my teeth. “He left them?”

  “She’s been on her own for years.” He paused. Looked closer at me. “What kind of guy was he? I mean…you said you were surprised he had kids. I always thought maybe he was married or something.”

  “No kids,” I said quickly. “Uncle Rob was always kind of a loner. That’s why we never thought anything of it when he packed up and moved here.”

  “Makes sense,” Jamie nodded, his face as placid and I was grateful for it.

  “She never remarried?”

  “Nope,” Jamie smiled, a hint of amusement playing across his mouth. “You ask me, I think she’s still in love with him.”

  I reached for the handle of the Heap, hoping that would be enough to tell him I was done talking when he said, “Pop says you’re staying in the old two-story out on Ravine.”

  “Pop?” I repeated.

  “Big guy. Red truck. Hates cats.”

  It took me a moment to connect the dots, but when I did I felt my mouth fall open in a caricature of surprise. “You’re Mr. Stoddard’s son?”

  His laughter affirmed my guess as I studied his face, looking for any sign that would link him to his father. As the moment stretched into several I saw it in the way the two men carried themselves—the easy slouch to their shoulders—as though the world were a place that would wait for them.

  And while the look made Mr. Stoddard seen arrogant, it fit his son well.

  “You’re taking your life in your hands rooming with Holly Would.”

  I giggled, amused at how quickly he could distract me. “Holly Would?”

  “We used to call her that in high school.” He shook his head, rubbed a hand along the back of his sunburned neck. “Not very nice, huh?”

  I shrugged. “Was it true?”

  “We sure didn’t call her Holly Wouldn’t.”

  I laughed and he grinned while looking down at his work boots. I couldn’t help but compare his smile to Dylan’s. One so startling—and the other pleasing in a way that could sneak up on a girl and pull the rug out from under her.

  “Your uncle give you that necklace?”

  I looked into his eyes, my fingers seeking the pendant as they had a hundred times in the past.

  “Yes.”

  “Figures. Adam has one just like it.”

  I tensed, anger rising within me again as I remembered the way I’d begged Mom to give it to me.

  And now some kid I didn’t even know had one just like it.

  I was bitter, and angry and feeling a little less like the adored only child I had been twenty minutes before and so welcomed the reprieve when Jamie finally walked away.

  I climbed into the Heap and sat for several seconds before starting her up. Back on the road and more confused than ever, I tried my best to keep a level head even as Pam’s story stirred the pot.

  Not only had Dad been to Lantern Creek, he’d fathered a child with some woman he’d met at a backwoods fishing lodge—a pretty woman with a down-to-earth personality that was a far cry from my mother’s.

  And yet both women had raised their children on their own, perhaps waiting for the day he would return.

  Just as I was.

  I imagined Dad and the life he’d created in this place with the woman I’d met on the steps of Three Fires. Did they enjoy a few months together, walking in the woods near the waterfall while they waited for their son to be born? And how long afterward did he stick around? A week, perhaps, before he realized he couldn’t hack being a dad and took off.

  I looked out the window at the birch and pine and a lowland meadow patched together by strips of sunlight and knew why Dad had been drawn to this place.

  And I couldn’t hate him.

  I could only wonder why he’d chosen to leave.

  * * *

  That night I dreamt of a creek I used to swim in as a child, one on the south side of Webber that meandered between a forest of cattails and burnt rushes. Standing on a wooded bank, I watched a silver canoe navigate a sharp bend.

  Dad was sitting upright in the stern, his paddle firmly in hand as I always remembered it to be. He paused mid-stroke when he saw me standing barefoot in my pajamas. Drawing up his paddle, he laid it across the gunwales.

  No movement. No moon. Nothing except the secret we now shared.

  “Why didn’t you tell Mom?”

  “Who says I didn’t?”

  I wanted to protest but felt the cool intrusion of water mixed with sand between my toes. To my right, a willow kissed its mirror image as a sudden breeze pushed the canoe away from shore.

  My father was leaving and I couldn’t stop him. Didn’t want to stop him.

  “Watch for the red bird, Muffet.”

  I stood still, thinking of our winter feeders.

  “And a tree that catches fire but never burns.”

  “Why?”

  But there was no answer, just a whisper of wind as it startled the willow, pushing him away, and still he sat, back
straight, staring ahead as the woman I’d seen at the lighthouse stepped from the darkness, her chest a bloom of crimson.

  I awoke in a sweat and sat upright in bed. Heart pounding, I swung my legs off the side and stumbled down the hallway. Entering Holly’s room, I plopped down on top of her empty bed.

  Her digital clock read 3:27 a.m.

  Holly Would?

  I wondered if this was the way it would be all summer and felt a lonely knot creep into my throat.

  Exhausted, I curled up in a ball and fell asleep.

  A sleep without dreams.

  Chapter Six

  It was almost noon the next day when Holly waltzed back into the house, fresh from an overnight stay I had no idea she’d been contemplating. I shot her my “disappointed” face, but she gave no indication of remorse, just threw her purse on the counter and ran a hand through her hair.

  “What’s up?”

  I shook my head. “No note?”

  She sighed while making her way to our mustard yellow La-Z-Boy. Once seated, she began drumming her fingers on the armrest. “Jen Reddy and I went out for a few drinks after work. I met a guy and made a spur-of-the-moment decision.”

  “Who is he?” I asked, hoping to divert my thoughts from their true course—my strange dream and how the hell I was supposed to find a tree that caught fire but never burned.

  “No one you’d know.”

  “I figured.”

  She smiled, tapped her chin with the end of her index finger and swiveled my way. “He does happen to be pals with a certain Deputy Locke.”

  My already frayed nerves unraveled upon impact. “Are you trying to torture me?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m trying to cheer you up because girlfriend or not, it was obvious he had the hots for you that night.”

  My ego did a little chin up and flexed her biceps.

  “I’m flattered.”

  “You should be. Turning Dylan Locke’s head isn’t easy. Jen’s been trying for months. She has one of those police scanners. Speeds on purpose.”

  But I didn’t want to talk about Jen or Dylan or the guy she’d just met. I wanted to spill my guts about what had happened at Three Fires, including my possible run-in with the extended family I didn’t know I had. But I couldn’t, and so I asked a question I knew would distract her. “What’s this guy’s name?”

  She gave a half smile and sighed in a way that told me I might be spending tonight alone as well. “His name is Dave and he works on the marina docks, so it goes without saying he’s got a killer tan and body.”

  “Good to know.”

  She got up from her chair and circled the kitchen counter. “That’s how he met Dylan.”

  “Oh?” I asked, unable to kick my confounded curiosity where Mr. Locke was concerned.

  “He runs for Marine Patrol on the weekends. Dave said he rescued a kid caught in a riptide two weeks ago. Dove off his jet ski and everything.”

  The image of Dylan diving off a jet ski to save a child dealt a serious blow to my tenuous ‘no summer romance’ policy and so I squished the image by saying, “I ran into another old classmate of yours yesterday.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

  “Jamie Stoddard.”

  “Where?” she asked.

  “He works out at the Lodge.”

  She made a face, grabbed a banana from our laminate bar and commenced to peel. “Did he seem…okay?”

  Warning bells went off in my head. “Why wouldn’t he?”

  “No reason,” she took a bite, trying to downplay her question.

  “Now my bullshit meter is going off and I’m only five feet away.”

  She looked uncomfortable. “You’re new to town and I don’t want you to say anything to him—”

  “I don’t even know him.”

  “Well,” she began slowly. “It’s just that his fiancée was killed last year in a car accident.”

  “Oh, geez—”

  “We all thought he’d gone off the deep end but…I guess not.”

  “Guess not,” I echoed, leaning against the counter. “He never mentioned a fiancée,”

  “And he probably won’t. Her name was Karen and he was driving when they crashed.” She took another bite of banana and shook her head. “It was a really big deal. Her parents flipped out, tried to sue him for manslaughter or something stupid like that.”

  “Was it his fault?” I asked, wondering how her response would affect the way I viewed the young man who’d been so nice to me.

  “Far as anyone knows he just lost control when a deer jumped out in front of them. Karen’s parents dropped the charges, but the families don’t speak anymore. It kind of tore the town in two.”

  I frowned, feeling for Jamie and what he must have gone through when I saw Holly’s mouth move. That in and of itself was not strange, but the fact that no sound came out made me think of the lighthouse and the woman with the red stain on her nightdress. I turned away, hoping to focus my attention on the four senses I had left and heard the familiar sound of white noise humming in my ears, cushioning them in a cocoon as it had before. Which meant something was happening again.

  I felt sleepy, heavy, as though I were being sucked into a huge feather bed after running a marathon.

  I glanced back but Holly seemed oblivious to my condition as she busied herself with some dishes in the sink. I turned, sat down on one of our wobbly stools as the afternoon sunlight extinguished itself and I was engulfed by the vision.

  I was crouched beside a wooded roadway at dusk.

  A black Jetta was coming my way, kicking up dust, the occupants engaged in a heated argument. A moment later the driver took his eyes off the road and the car swerved. I covered my head as it fishtailed around me, rolling end over end before finally hitting a tree.

  The next instant I was running, dropping to my knees beside the passenger door of the Jetta. Yanking it open, I saw a young woman bleeding from the mouth and choking on it—her blonde hair a tangle of tissue that seemed to be seeping from her ears.

  I choked on my scream, tried to reach into my pocket for my cell phone before I realized I was in some alternate universe where things like that didn’t exist.

  I reached in for the girl, not wanting to touch her but wanting to help and saw Jamie Stoddard strapped in beside her, his amber eyes watching me.

  I tried to say his name but couldn’t.

  “Hello, Muffet,” he said, blood running from his nose and between his lips. One drop hung there, suspended before dropping to the earth and blooming against the brown dirt.

  I screamed—my voice wet and heavy—my lungs full. Like a struggling swimmer, I fought for the surface, sunlight piercing the sky in patchwork places and I climbed it like a ladder as if my life depended on it and the forest began to melt away and our kitchen reappeared.

  Holly had her back to me, digging in the fridge for more food.

  Had an hour passed? A minute? A second?

  I had no idea how long I’d been in a comatose state or why it had happened, but I knew it had nothing to do with the normal girl from Webber and everything to do with Dad.

  Blinking, I looked around and touched my forehead just as Holly turned to face me with a carton of yogurt in her hand. Her face went slack when she saw me and she put the yogurt down in a hurry.

  “You feel sick or something?”

  I shook my head and tried to get my bearings but the vision of the crash that had taken Karen’s life was too vivid to ignore. And Jamie had seen me—spoken as though I were there beside him.

  “Hot flash,” I lied while wiping my brow with the back of my hand.

  “At twenty-two?”

  I laughed and the sound scratched my throat. Had I been screaming? And did screaming in an alternate universe equate to screaming here, in Lantern Creek?

  I took a quick drink of a can of Coke that had been sitting on the counter for an indeterminable amount of time.

  “Maybe you should go to the doctor.�
��

  “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

  “The blood,” she persisted. “We never figured out where it came from.”

  “So what?” I said, trying to sound confident.

  “I don’t know—it just seems weird.”

  “There’s nothing weird about bleeding when you’ve just been in a car accident. You’re overreacting.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Good,” I interrupted. “That’s what I want you to do.”

  Defeated, Holly pulled open our silverware drawer and looked for a spoon. “Dave and I are going out again on Friday night. You should come along. Bring a date.”

  I made a face, hating how my thoughts flew to Dylan and that tanned arm hanging from his passenger window, wisps of long, brown hair dancing around the two of them like a lightning storm.

  “Where would I find my unsuspecting victim?”

  Holly smiled. “Leave that to me.”

  * * *

  Miracles were in short supply when Friday night rolled around. Not that I hadn’t tried to snag a man, but solo lunches at Dairy Queen and lonely trips to the Dollar General weren’t exactly prime opportunities for pick-ups.

  And I had other things on my mind…like figuring out what the hell was happening to me.

  Nothing logical had come to mind aside from the possibility that I’d fallen down Alice’s rabbit hole, and even that would have been reassuring in its constant, measured absurdity. But these random trips to the Twilight Zone sandwiched between mundane tasks like folding laundry were beginning to make me feel like the girl from Webber had never existed.

  I was contemplating how to get around Holly when she emerged from her room wearing a crushed velvet blouse I thought a church secretary might like.

  “You coming or what?”

  I frowned, knowing a night out would do me good but not wanting to be a third wheel.

  “Couldn’t find a date?”

  “Didn’t look too hard.”

  “Come out anyway,” she said. “You never know who you might run into.”

  That was true, and I certainly didn’t need an excuse not to call Mom and act like I hadn’t found anything of interest at Three Fires Lodge aside from a job.