"Everything." Lauren let out a choked sob. "My whole life is falling apart, Mom, and I am seriously considering quitting."
"Quitting what?"
"Life."
"What do you—"
"I mean, I've had enough. I'm ready to call it quits, hang it up, adios amigos."
"Oh . . . Lauren." Anna tried to gather her thoughts.
"No matter what I do or how hard I try, nothing ever turns out right."
"Maybe you're not trying the right things," Anna said gently.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Lauren's voice was edged with anger now.
"Just that I worry about you, sweetheart." Anna took a deep breath. "It's just that pills and alcohol are not a substitute for happiness." There, she'd said it.
"For your information, I'm off the pills and alcohol."
Anna wondered if she'd heard her wrong. "You're no longer using prescriptions, Lauren? You've quit drinking?"
"Didn't Sarah tell you I was in a clinic during all of November and part of December?"
"She mentioned you took a vacation." Anna tried to remember exactly what Sarah had said the last time they talked. Very little of their conversation had anything to do with Sarah's parents. Anna had hoped that was a good sign.
"Yes, that's what I told Sarah, but I figured she knew the truth. Of course, she's so wrapped up in her own life, it's not as if she cares about mine."
"That's fairly typical of a teenager, don't you think?"
"Maybe . . ." Lauren let out a long sigh.
"But that's wonderful news, Lauren. If you've really gotten free of the pills and alcohol, you should be feeling pleased and proud, darling!"
"I feel like I'm a complete failure as a human being."
"Maybe you just need to adjust to—"
"Adjust to the fact that my life is completely worthless? Really, Mom, I don't know what the point is anymore. I have no reason to go on. Nothing, not one thing, is working for me. Nothing in my life is any better now."
"Give yourself time, Lauren."
"Time for what, Mom? More pain? After all I've done, all I get is pain and more pain. I feel like I'm beating my head against the wall. And for what?"
"Do you want me to come to Pine Ridge?" Anna offered suddenly.
"No!"
"But, Lauren, it sounds like you need someone to—"
"All I need is to get out of this horrible place." She started to sob now. "There's nothing here for me, Mom. Nothing!"
"Oh, Lauren, please, come out here. I'll do anything I can to help you, darling. It sounds like you've worked hard, you've made a good start. Let me help you now."
"I think I should come out there . . ."
Anna felt a rush of hope. "Yes," she said eagerly. "You know you're welcome here, Lauren. Please, do come."
"It's weird . . ." Lauren's voice grew very quiet now. "I can't really explain it, but when I think about the river . . . it's like I can feel it calling to me. Do you think a river can do that? Actually call to someone? Or am I going crazy?"
Anna considered her words. "I do think the river attracts people to it, Lauren. I know how much I missed the Siuslaw all those years I lived in Pine Ridge."
"I never thought of it like that before . . . never really cared one way or another. But something changed when I was at the clinic. I started to hear what sounded like the river, like it was calling to me. But the shrink said it was from getting off the drugs and booze. A lot of people go crazy in those places. He said it would go away. But I still hear it sometimes. Like last night, I had this dream about the river. Then I woke up and I thought I could still hear it. I could hear the river calling to me. Do you think I can hear it, Mom?"
"I don't know." Anna felt nervous now. Maybe Lauren was experiencing some kind of delirium. Maybe she needed more professional help. Or maybe she simply needed the river. "I'm not an expert, Lauren, but I do think you should come here. I don't see what it could hurt. In fact, I'm sure it would help."
"Do you really think so?"
"Yes! Come stay with us. And if you like, we can come and get you."
"No. I can drive, Mom."
"And Sarah? I know she has school. Will she be all right without you?"
Lauren made an unhappy sounding laugh. "No worries there, Mom. Sarah is quite grown up these days. She's made it crystal clear; she has no need of a mother . . . or me."
"Yes, but—"
"Besides, she has her grandmother . . . and her father." Now Lauren started crying again.
"You're sure you're up for the drive here?" Anna asked with concern. "Remember, it's wintertime and you could have snow on the mountains and—"
"Yes, Mother." Her voice grew aggravated now. "I'm not a baby. I can drive perfectly well, thank you very much!"
"Yes . . . I'm sure you can."
"Anyway, it'll probably take me a few days to figure everything out. I'll let you know."
"And call me if you need anything," Anna urged. "Anything at all."
It wasn't until Anna had hung up that the seriousness of the conversation fully hit her. What Lauren said about ending it all . . . was she really thinking of taking her own life? Or was she simply being melodramatic? Anna remembered back when Lauren had first found out she was pregnant, and how depressed she'd been that Donald had broken up with her. She had sometimes been overly dramatic then, even threatening to throw herself into the river a time or two. Hopefully, her talk of the river calling her had nothing to do with anything like that.
Anna went out to where Clark was working on the new boat house and told him that Lauren was coming to visit.
"That's wonderful," he said.
Anna frowned. "Yes, I'm glad she's coming." Then she explained about how Lauren had stopped using alcohol and prescribed medications, as well as what she'd said about wanting to end her life and how the river was calling. "She said she could actually hear it, Clark. Do you think that's normal?"
He shrugged. "Who knows what's normal for her? Do you think that her years of alcohol and drug abuse have given her hallucinations?"
"I have no idea. Do you think it's foolish to have her come if she's really unwell?" Anna glanced out to the river. This morning it was gray and somber, flowing fast with lots of undercurrents. Maybe a lot like Lauren.
"I don't know." He scratched his head. "But at least you won't be distracted with guests. Having her here in the off-season should make it easy for you to give Lauren all your attention."
Anna nodded. "If you don't mind, I think I'll insist she stays in the house with us. I don't like the idea of her being alone in a cabin . . . or even in the suite."
"Yes, I think that's wise."
Anna went to work getting Sarah's room ready for Lauren to occupy. Hopefully Sarah wouldn't mind and, really, there was no reason she should know. Anna also put in an order for groceries, wanting to ensure she had some of the things that Lauren used to like. However, she hadn't seen Lauren for several years. In many ways, she didn't even know her daughter. Not really.
Anna was caught completely off guard when Lauren arrived in town the very next day. Because Henry had passed away a couple of years ago, there was no boat service on the river these days, but Lauren called from the grocery store and Clark insisted on going out to fetch her.
"I've got the roof on the boat," he assured her as she handed him an umbrella for Lauren. "And there are some blankets in there if she gets cold."
"I could come," Anna offered, looking out to where the rain was blowing sideways with the gale-force winds.
"No." He firmly shook his head. "You go ahead and stay here and stay warm."
"I'll get dinner started." She kissed him. "Thank you."
"We'll be okay," he assured her. "You and I . . . we can handle this."
She just nodded. She understood the meaning of that statement. She knew he was aware of how concerned she felt for Lauren. Last night she'd had a nightmare about Lauren. Waking up, she'd felt cold and shaken and confused. Then she'd praye
d. Right now, prayer seemed her only tool.
28
The first two days of Lauren's visit were cloudy and gloomy and generally uneventful. It was reminiscent of the time Lauren had spent with them at the beginning of her pregnancy. Aside from mealtimes, where she would sullenly pick at her food, Lauren stayed to her room and mostly slept. Anna decided that was probably for the best. Let her emerge on her own timing. She'd been through a lot and perhaps just needed some peace and quiet.
To Anna's relief, she saw no sign of pills or alcohol. It seemed that Lauren really had managed to get beyond her addictions. However, it was clear that something else was still wrong. Whether it was depression or just sadness, Anna couldn't be sure. On the third day the weather turned sunny and Anna enticed Lauren to sit out on the upper deck for their afternoon tea.
"Clark says we're going to have a spell of warm weather," Anna said as she tucked a lap robe over Lauren's legs. Lauren looked pale and thin, with dark shadows under her eyes. And she had aged considerably. Anna had been enticing her to take some herbal supplements, hoping to build her up physically. But it was Lauren's spirit that was most disturbing. She seemed partially dead inside. "I'm so proud of you," Anna said as she refilled her cup with chamomile tea. "So glad that you've really managed to get free of your chemical dependence. I've read up on it a bit, and it sounds like it does take time to recover completely. So I hope you'll go easy on yourself, dear. Give yourself time."
Lauren looked at her with sad blue eyes. "What if time can't help me, Mom?"
Anna made a small, forced smile. "But you wouldn't know that it couldn't help, dear, not until enough time passed."
"Donald has left me." Lauren turned to look toward the river now.
"I'm sorry."
"After all I did to get well. He—he left me, Mom." Her voice broke.
Anna didn't know what to say. She handed Lauren a handkerchief.
"I did it for him, Mom."
"Did what?"
"Went to the clinic—got clean and sober. Donald had threatened to leave me if I didn't go. So I went . . . for him."
"But didn't you do it for yourself, Lauren? It's your life. Didn't you do it for you? And what about Sarah?"
Lauren shrugged. "I did it for Donald, Mom."
"But he left anyway . . ."
"Yeah." Lauren called him a bad name.
Anna bit her lip and wished she could think of something encouraging to say.
"I asked him . . ." She paused to wipe her nose. "I asked him if he wouldn't have left me if I was still, you know, using the pills and stuff."
"What did he say?"
"That he'd decided to leave me long ago. And that he would've left me whether or not I'd gone to the clinic."
"I am sorry," Anna said again. "But I'm curious. If he left you, who is with Sarah right now?"
Lauren gave her an exasperated look. "He's still living at home, Mom. He agreed to stick around until I get back. But our marriage is over. He has emotionally left me."
Anna reached over and put her hand on Lauren's, looking deeply into her daughter's eyes. "I know it's hard, dear. But the important thing is that you've taken the steps to get healthy. Your life is on track. I know it must seem hard for you right now, but you are on a good road."
"A good road?" Lauren narrowed her eyes. "Alone?"
"You're not alone."
"I mean alone without Donald, Mom."
Anna wanted to question if she'd ever really had Donald in the first place.
"I'm not one of those women, Mom, the ones who are all liberated and able to be single." She shook her head. "That is not me!"
"And that's fine, Lauren. There are other men. And when you get really healthy and when you are on top of this, you will—"
"I am thirty-six years old, Mom."
Now, despite her resolve to be understanding, Anna laughed. "Thirty-six is quite young."
"Thirty-six going on seventy," Lauren said bitterly.
"I was nearly forty when I married Clark."
"You're different."
"Yes, but you are changing, Lauren. I can sense it. You are going to get stronger. You're going to embrace life and—"
"Maybe I should embrace life right now." Lauren set her teacup aside and stood so suddenly that the blanket fell to her feet. "I think I want to take a walk."
Anna blinked. "Yes, I think that's a good idea. Do you want company?"
"No." Lauren put her hand on the railing. "I need to do this on my own, Mom."
Anna just nodded. "All right."
Now Lauren went down the stairs and Anna just stood there watching her leave. "Have a good walk, dear."
Lauren didn't answer, just kept going.
Anna felt uneasy as she picked up the blanket and tea things. Perhaps it was unwise to let Lauren go off by herself. Lauren had never really been much of an outdoors enthusiast. What if she wandered too far, or got lost? Anna decided to clean up the tea dishes and set some things out for dinner and then she would go on a walk of her own. She would try to act perfectly natural, not as if she was worried about her daughter's state of mind.
After about thirty minutes, Anna wandered down for her walk. First she wandered around the grounds, and even asked Clark, who was painting exterior trim on the cabins, if he'd seen her. "No." He smiled. "But that's great she decided to get out and get some fresh air and exercise. That should help lift her spirits." He held up his paintbrush. "I'm making hay while the sun shines."
"And I won't keep you from it." Anna continued, going down the main nature trail, the one the guests usually liked most because it went along the meadow, through the woods, and finally returned along the river. Clark had built benches and stopping spots along the way. And Anna had enticed wildflowers to grow in certain areas. All in all, it was a charming little hike and only took about an hour to complete. As Anna came to each rest stop, she hoped to discover Lauren pausing to catch her breath. But there was no sign of her.
It wasn't until Anna was on the river portion of the trail that she began to wonder about the boats. Was it possible that Lauren had taken a boat out? Lauren had never been very interested in boats before, and Anna hadn't heard any of the boats' motors starting up, but with all Lauren's talk of the river calling her, perhaps she'd taken out a rowboat.
Anna stopped by the boathouse to see that all the rowboats and canoes appeared to be in place. Then she looked over to the dock, where she kept her own canoe, the River Dove, handy for her own use. She realized it was missing!
"Clark!" she called out as she jogged over to where she'd last seen him. "Do you think Lauren took my canoe out?"
He set his brush back in his pail and frowned. "I don't know. I haven't seen—"
"My canoe is gone," she breathlessly told him. "Why would it be gone?"
His brow creased. "Do you think she—"
"I don't know." She turned, calling over her shoulder. "But I'm going to take the boat out to look."
"Maybe you should check the house first," he called back. "Make sure she's not there."
"Yes." She paused. "You're right."
"If she's not there, tell me, and I'll take a boat out too."
She was not there and within minutes, both Clark and Anna were in motorboats, Clark going east and Anna going west, promising to meet back in thirty minutes, which would be shortly before the sunset. With a pounding heart, and silently praying, Anna wove the boat back and forth along the river, scouring along the inlet and marsh areas and even calling out from time to time. But there was no sign of Lauren or the canoe. Finally Anna knew it was time to return to the inn. Perhaps Clark had found Lauren by now. Maybe they were both sitting in front of a crackling fire, enjoying a cup of hot cocoa. But when she reached the dock, Clark's boat wasn't there. And it was getting dusky.
She ran up to the house, yelling for both Lauren and Clark, but when no one answered, she grabbed a coat and a couple of flashlights and blankets then ran back down and tossed them into the boat. She was he
ading upriver. Less than a mile up, she spotted Clark's boat alongside what looked like Jim Flanders's skiff. But as she got closer, she could tell from Clark's expression that something was wrong.
"Jim spotted the canoe," Clark quickly told her. "Over by his place."
"And Lauren?" Anna looked hopefully at Jim.
"The canoe was upside down," Jim explained. "I was worried you'd had problems. So I ran down there to check. But no one seemed to be with it. I looked around awhile, just to be sure something wasn't wrong, then I hauled the canoe over to my dock." He held his hands up.
Anna looked at Clark. "But what about Lauren?"
"She's not at the house?"
"I checked. She's not there." Anna felt tears coming to her eyes. "We need to keep looking!" She handed him a flashlight and blanket.
"I'll keep looking too," Jim told her.
"The canoe was at your place." She pointed upriver. "Which means it could've drifted from even higher up the river."
Clark suggested they split up and Jim said he'd get a couple more neighbors to help. No one actually said what they were looking for, but Anna could see it in their eyes. They were looking for a body.
With trembling hands, she guided the boat along the south side of the river, shining the flashlight along the edges, occasionally calling out Lauren's name. But the further she went, the more disheartened she felt. She could see other boats out now, maybe a half dozen or more, all moving slowly, shining lights through the darkening sky and river. The sounds of motors rumbling, the occasional call or whistle. The eerie image filled her with dread and she knew she was close to despair. "Lauren!" she cried out. "Where are you?"
River's Call Page 23
