by Gloria Repp
This was the Mullica River, he told her, and they’d put in just below Atsion. After scouting the river, he and Doc had come up with the plan to paddle as far as Pleasant Mills, which would take most of the day.
The river gleamed in the sunlight, and she said, “Look at the color of this water! Like tea.”
“They call it cedar water,” he said. “Doc told me the water is naturally high in iron, and it picks up dye from the roots of mosses and cedars.”
“And how about this weather—for October!” The fog had burned off, and she was already glad she’d worn her sunglasses. She glanced ahead. Connie was wearing hers too, “pink, with sparklies,” as she’d put it. Bonnie had stopped paddling to pull her hair into a ponytail, and their canoe turned in circles.
Remi must have been watching. “They’re lucky the river’s slow here, or they’d be in the bushes.” He yawned. “Going to be a warm day, isn’t it? Did you get some drinks from Doc? I’m thirsty already.”
“Water. It’s under my pack.”
They let the canoe drift while she took off her jacket and he reached for the water. “Got them,” he said. “Here’s one for you.”
For the next few hours they followed the river’s gentle curves past sandy banks and bushes. After a while the bushes were replaced by hummocks of grass, and they entered a grassy marsh.
By now, Pumper and Fritz had paddled far ahead, and Doc and Jude were out of sight behind them. The girls’ canoe moved more and more slowly, but finally it crossed the marsh.
The sun was warm enough that she took advantage of the slow pace to shed another layer—the long-sleeved shirt—and rub sunscreen onto her arms and face.
Soon the banks grew crowded, with trees and bushes hanging low over the water, and the river bent into sharper turns. Remi shook his head. “Connie shouldn’t be steering,” he said. “She can’t handle the turns.”
After the next turn, the girls’ canoe headed for the bank and their voices rose in disagreement as they tried to keep out of the bushes.
“How deep’s the water here?” Madeleine asked.
“Four or five feet. Sandy bottom.”
“That’s what I thought, but it’s hard to see.”
The girls’ canoe turned lazily in the current. Bonnie pushed it away from the bank as Connie stood up, squealing, to reach across the gunwale for something, and the canoe tipped.
A minute later, it was upside down and both girls were splashing in the water.
Madeleine dropped her sunglasses onto her pack. “I’ll get them. Beach this one, okay, and come help me?”
She slipped into the water—cold but not unbearable. Bonnie seemed to be staying afloat, but Connie was screaming, bobbing under, and coming up to scream again.
“Hey!” Madeleine called. “It’s not that deep. Put your feet down.”
Connie was still sobbing when Madeleine grabbed for her, saying, “Stand on your feet!”
Connie looked surprised as her feet touched bottom, but she clutched at Madeleine’s arm. “My sunglasses! I lost them! They were brand new.”
“I’ll look for them,” Madeleine said. “See that little beach? You and Bonnie wait for me there.”
First she had to get their canoe. She fought hanging brambles to pull it out of the bushes and slide it toward Remi, who waded out to meet her.
Now for the sunglasses. She searched along the bank—more brambles—then waded away from the bank, looking into the murky water. There, a glimmer of pink! She ducked underwater, groped along the sandy bottom, and a minute later had them in her hand.
Connie, watching, sent up a cheer. Madeleine shook the water out of her eyes and waded down to where the girls stood.
Doc and Jude, having beached their canoe, were walking toward her, and Jude wore a broad grin. No doubt Jude had made some choice comments about the girls.
She handed the glasses to Connie.
“Mrs. Burke . . .” Connie’s plain little face squinched up, and she began to cry. “I’m so sorry.”
Madeleine put an arm around her. “Your glasses are safe, and you didn’t drown.”
“But I don’t want you to be angry or anything. You had to jump in the water, and it was all my fault.”
“Don’t you worry.” Madeleine gave her a reassuring smile. She wiped the tears from Connie’s cheeks and pulled her close. “Us girls have to stick together, right?”
Connie nodded, sniffling, and put on her glasses.
“Now you’re lookin’ cool!” Madeleine said. “Got your clothes? Better go change.”
“Where?”
“In the bushes on top of that bank. They’ll make a nice screen.”
The girls left, and Jude came up to her, but he’d lost his grin. “What happened to you?”
She looked down at herself. Blood streaked her arms, and come to think of it, they were stinging.
“Guess I ran into the brambles.”
Nathan stepped closer, but she couldn’t read his eyes behind the sunglasses. “Jude, get me the first aid kit, would you?” he said. “Then you and Remi take a canoe and find us a lunch spot. Give a shout to Pumper and Fritz.”
“I’m fine—I’ll just wash it off,” she said.
“I don’t trust river water,” he said. “Let me put something on those scratches.”
She shrugged in agreement, and he grinned. “You were wonderful with those girls. Jude had some suggestions that weren’t nearly as kind as what you did.”
“That’s because he’s never had a pair of pink sunglasses. With sparklies.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
He took her arm and dabbed it with antiseptic. A light, skilful touch. He started on her other arm and paused at the scar. “What happened here?”
At first she’d hated that scar because of its jagged edges, but she’d almost forgotten about it. “I fell.”
“How come?”
“Someone.”
He bent over her scratches, finished up the cleaning. “Someone?”
Clouds seemed to block the sun, casting shadows across them.
He covered the scar with his hand, and his voice deepened. “Mollie?”
She looked away. “My . . . husband.” She almost choked on the word. “Brenn.”
He kept his hand there, a gentle pressure, and then Remi and Jude came back with Pumper and Fritz behind them.
“Get into some dry clothes,” he said to her. “I’ll set things up for lunch.” He sounded preoccupied, as if he had something on his mind besides lunch.
As she changed, she tried not to think about the things he hadn’t said and hoped he wouldn’t ask any more questions.
They ate lunch on a sandy spit, and the girls were subdued, as if they thought they’d caused trouble. They huddled close to her, took off their sneakers when she did, sat cross-legged like she did, and the boys sprawled across from them.
After everyone had eaten, Madeleine handed round the cookies, and they ate in contented silence. The sun felt good on her bare feet, but her ponytail was dripping down her neck, so she took off the band and shook out her hair. Might as well look like a wet sheep dog instead of a river rat.
She flipped her hair forward, finger-combed the wet strands, flipped it back, and caught a glimpse of Nathan’s face.
What was the meaning of that intent gaze? He looked different today, wearing jeans and a T-shirt like the guys, but his shirt had eagles on it instead of race cars. And his arms were solid with muscles.
She dug a toe into the sand. Brenn had been Mr. Muscles personified, careful to work out at the gym, careful about what he ate.
After a while, the guys began to discuss river ratings, and then the talk veered to baseball. Nathan leaned back against a hillock with an arm over his eyes.
Connie turned to her, started on the inevitable subject—boys—and Bonnie joined in. They described their best and worst dates. Madeleine asked about the ideal guy, and Connie said, “I’m looking for someone big, with muscles.”
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“And curly hair, she’s told me that a hundred times,” Bonnie said. “I’d rather have someone with brains.”
Connie wiggled her toes and smiled at Madeleine. “What kinda guy do you like?”
Bonnie elbowed her. “She’s already married.”
Madeleine leaned across to ask Fritz if he had a favorite river, but Connie persisted. “So tell us about him, Mrs. Burke.”
“He died.” She spread out her hands. The summer’s tan had erased the wide white band. “See, no rings.” She smiled at Connie. “And I’m not looking.”
“No fair!” Bonnie’s eyes held more than idle curiosity. “But . . . if you were looking?”
Even the guys were listening, so she’d give them their money’s worth.
She tilted her head back, half-closing her eyes. “Short, really short—I don’t want anyone towering over me. And skinny. No hair. No teeth.”
The girls laughed aloud, the guys shifted and grinned.
Connie said, “Hey, talk real.”
Madeleine brushed the hair out of her eyes. “If you really want to know, I don’t care about muscles or brains as much as I care about heart.”
Bonnie said, “What do you mean? Someone who’s crazy about you?”
“That’s always nice,” Madeleine said, and Connie giggled. “But I’m thinking about godliness.”
Fritz looked up. “Like, he goes to church a lot?”
“More than that.” She paused. “It’s like God is the biggest thing in his life, takes up all of his heart. There’s probably a verse in the Bible about it. Next time you catch Doc awake, ask him.”
Without moving, Nathan said, “In Matthew. The Bible says a godly man loves the Lord God with all his heart and soul and mind.”
“Wow!” Jude sat upright. “That’s impossible.”
Nathan sat up too, smiling at him. “You got it. Christ is the One who makes it happen. He changes our hearts so we can love God like that.”
Remi had been fidgeting with the ties on his backpack and now he stood to his feet, eyeing the canoes.
Madeleine put on her sneakers, and the girls did too.
“Time to shove off,” Nathan said. “I want to make a change. Bonnie and Mrs. Burke will switch places.”
Remi must have known this would happen, but he marched off toward the girls’ canoe with a dark face.
Madeleine followed him, and before anyone came near, she said, “Thanks, Remi, for not making a fuss. You’re one of our leaders, you know, and sometimes a leader can’t do what he wants.”
“Those girls kind of spook me,” he said.
“I understand. Do you have any sisters?”
A shadow crossed his face. “Used to. Sort of.”
“You could pretend you’re Bonnie’s big brother. She wants to learn.”
His smile returned. “Thanks, Mollie. I’ll try.”
With all the canoes moving at the same rate, the rest of the trip went more quickly.
The river spread out into another marsh, but Pumper and Fritz found the right channel, and soon they were through it and paddling near cedar trees. They floated under a bridge, then past a changing landscape of grass, bushes, pines, and dense forest.
One patch of forest had burned down to the river, leaving a black expanse of stumps. Connie said, “Daddy told us there’s been too many forest fires lately. It’s awful what fire does to the woods.”
Kent would have delivered a lengthy rebuttal to that statement, but Madeleine didn’t bring it up. No need to disturb this peaceful trip.
Nathan must have phoned ahead because Howard was there to meet them. The men loaded the canoes, and the teens piled into the van.
Howard stopped her and Nathan to ask how the girls had done, and Nathan said they’d had only one small mishap. He glanced at her. “Mollie rescued them.”
“I appreciate that—thanks a million,” Howard said. He hurried toward the van, and they followed. The two girls were sitting on the front bench, leaning forward to talk to Remi. Only the rear seat, half-filled with supplies, was open.
Nathan smiled as he sat down beside her. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you for hours.” He put an arm along the back of the seat, lightly touching her shoulders.
Just a friendly gesture, she told herself. Relax.
“How did Jude do with his lessons?” she asked.
“Very well. He and Remi are becoming experts.”
She turned to look at him. “I have to take it back.”
“What?”
“The aspersions I cast upon your personal valor. Regarding those two girls.”
He shook his head. “You’re good with them.”
They talked about the canoe trip for a few minutes, but finally he said, “I’m curious about that scar on your arm.”
She tensed. At least she was wearing her jacket and he couldn’t see it now.
He took her hand, as if for encouragement, and kept talking. “Why didn’t they get someone to stitch it up properly?”
“Brenn put on a bandage. He said it would be okay.”
“What about your mother?”
“She wouldn’t think of disagreeing with him. The doctor always knows best.”
“He was a doctor?”
“Hemopathology. See articles on bone marrow by Dr. Brendon T. Burke. If it matters.”
She leaned back against the seat, closing her eyes, but her voice shook, and a tremor rose inside her. “Please, Nathan, talk to me about . . . about . . . Alaska? Tell me about your igloo.”
“It was an excellent igloo,” he said, “white and cold, with a marvelous skylight, and a white picket fence that the whole village envied.”
The trembling eased as he spoke, and she didn’t mind when his arm curved around her shoulders.
The teens had started arguing about something, and finally Howard roared, “C’mon folks! Let’s sing!” He began with “Shout to the Lord,” and everyone joined in.
Nathan sang in a low, warm voice, and after a while she could sing too.
The next morning on their way to church, Madeleine asked Jude about the girl he’d mentioned. “Don’t stop praying,” he said.
“How did you happen to find her?”
“I was over near Apple Pie Hill. I’d followed some coon tracks to a stream and saw footprints in the mud, so I got curious. It’s just summer cabins around there.”
She drove slowly, wanting to hear more.
“Then here she comes, limping down to the water like some wounded animal, fills a thermos, and drags herself back the way she came.”
“You followed her?” Madeleine parked in front of Timothy’s store.
“Yeah. I’m getting better at tracking. Found out she’s sleeping on the deck of one of those cabins.” He opened the car door. “That’s about all.”
For his message, Timothy spoke of God’s wisdom, and at the end he challenged the small congregation to begin reading the book of Ephesians. “Let God show you who He is and give you His wisdom.”
Madeleine put away her notebook. Maybe she’d do that. She certainly needed wisdom. About Jude’s girl. And Kent . . . and the decoys. What was going on with them, anyway?
While they sang the closing hymn, she prayed for wisdom, and during the last verse, decided to talk to Timothy about the PC decoy. Maybe she had jumped to a conclusion.
They had planned another sew-in for the evening, but she didn’t want to wait that long. On her way out, she asked Timothy, “Will you be home this afternoon?”
“Sitting out on my deck,” he said, “soaking up some rays. Want to talk? I’ll send Hey-You over around 1:30.”
She thought he was joking, but not long after they’d eaten lunch, Aunt Lin called to her. “That dog of Timothy’s is sitting on the back porch. Do you have any idea why?”
Madeleine laughed. “I was planning to go see Timothy this afternoon, and he said he’d send the dog over, but I can’t believe . . .”
“Believe it,” her aunt said. “
I’ve heard about that dog. He so smart I’d like to have him on my staff.”
As she stepped out of the door, Hey-You greeted Madeleine with extravagant tail-wavings. He gulped down her offering of a tuna sandwich and bounded into the woods.
Timothy was sitting on his balcony with a steaming mug and a book. He picked up a thermos and gestured toward the chair beside him. “Pour yourself some cocoa,” he said. “Sit down and cover up with that blanket. It’s chilly today.”
She settled herself under the blanket. How to begin?
“What’s on your mind, little lady?”
“It’s about Paula’s decoys. You get them direct from her and sell them for seventy-five dollars, right?”
“Right. I pay her sixty-five.”
“Apparently Kent is handling the rest of their distribution. Bria says he gives them seventy-five for each one he sells.”
Timothy shrugged. “He’s not running a business.”
“I understand.” She took a sip of cocoa. “What if he was selling the decoys for more than two hundred dollars and not telling her about it?”
“He couldn’t get that much. She’s not well known.”
“What if he was faking Paul Clampton’s initials on the bottom and selling them as antiques?”
Timothy thought about it, knitting his brows. “Paul Clampton is still a big name in South Jersey. Are the decoys identical?”
“Almost. Bria uses a hidden signature.”
“Scoundrel! He’ll never get away with it. Not for long, anyway.” He frowned. “The trouble is, when he gets caught, it’ll be the Clampton name that’s dragged through the mud.”
She hadn’t thought of that. “What do you think I should do?” Hurriedly, she amended her words. “I mean, what could be done? I really don’t want to get involved.”
Timothy turned his head to give her a considering look.
She gazed out at the trees, and the silence between them lengthened.
Maybe he would let her off the hook, change the subject, as he did when he knew she was uncomfortable.
Good, he’d started talking about Jude, how he’d come back from the canoe trip with questions about loving God.
She smiled. “Jude’s growing, isn’t he?”
Timothy’s smile agreed with her. “He found the passage in Matthew that speaks of the first commandment. Now we’re discussing the second. Do you know that one?”
