Nothing But Blue

by Lisa Jahn-Clough

  The sound of footsteps makes me open my eyes with a start. I’m crouched low enough so that I don’t think I can be seen, but I shrink into the back of the pew, just in case.

  The feet walk by me to the stage. A chair scrapes across the floor, and then the pipes of the organ fill the room. Each note vibrates to the ceiling and hovers. It is a sad melody, like a long, low, hauntingly beautiful howl. One note echoes and then another plays over it.

  The notes pour through my veins and into my heart, filling me with something I can’t describe—a mixture of sadness and beauty all at once. Before I know it tears are streaming down my face. A hiccup escapes, loud enough to be heard. I put my hand over my mouth, but it’s too late. The music stops.

  “Who’s here?” A man’s voice.

  The church is just a church again. I have been discovered.

  The man walks over and stands in front of the pew so that I can’t get by him. I sit up. He is wearing olive-green coveralls and has a dark bushy mustache. He looks worried. “There is no service today,” he says with a Spanish accent.

  “Th … the door was open,” I stutter.

  “No one is supposed to be here,” he says. “You won’t tell, will you?”

  I must have given him a confused look because he goes on. “Only the organist is supposed to play. This is a very old organ. Worth a lot of money.”

  “But it was so beautiful,” I blurt.

  “I’m the maintenance man. I will get fired if they know I play it.”

  “What was the music? That you were playing?”

  “Bach.”

  “It was beautiful,” I say again.

  The man examines me more closely. Can he tell I’ve been crying? “Do you need something?” he asks.

  I wipe my face. “I just came in to get dry. I’ll leave now.”

  “You can stay till it stops raining,” he says.

  “Will you …” I pause, searching for the right way to ask. “Would you … keep playing?”

  “You will not tell?”

  I shake my head.

  “Okay,” he says. “Only because you need some Bach.” He goes back to the front.

  I let the music fill me. The ache in my legs goes away. The blisters on my feet no longer sting. I am crying but I am not sad. When the man finally stops and the final note fades, there is silence everywhere. Calm, peaceful silence.

  The silence is suddenly broken by a bark. I sit up. Shadow? Is he here? The bark comes again. It is outside. It sounds like him—a short, sharp, single bark. He wants to come in. The man opens the door before I can get up, and a sopping wet Shadow bounds down the aisle.

  Shadow! My Shadow! He is so tickled to see me, he practically leaps into my arms. I am so tickled to see him, I say his name over and over and tell him how sorry I am and that I will never, ever leave without him again. I had just started to dry off and Shadow leaves me damp and smelling of wet dog, but I don’t care.

  “Your dog?” the man asks.

  “Yes,” I say.

  The man puts his hand out, and Shadow sniffs it. “No dogs allowed,” he says. “I’ll get in much trouble.” But he pets Shadow behind the ears affectionately. He bends down to Shadow’s level. They stare at each other. I look from one to the other, each reflected in the other’s eyes. Then Shadow bows his head and breaks the stare.

  The man still has a faraway look in his eyes. “Some dogs are magical,” he says. “They know things. They make things happen. They have a power.” He stands up and puts a hand on my shoulder. “This dog, he is magic for you.”

  I start to protest. How can a dog be magic? Besides, if he is magic, how come so many bad things have happened? Very bad, awful things. I don’t believe in magic. I certainly don’t believe in magic dogs, but Shadow keeps finding me and I can’t explain how. And then there’s the communicating thing. I look at Shadow now, but he doesn’t say anything. Maybe that was all in my mind, like everything else.

  “I have to go now,” I say. “Thank you for the music.”

  I head for the door. The rain is really coming down, and the sky is dark. How did it get to be night again? I must have been in the church a lot longer than I thought.

  “Come,” the man says, and gestures to me.

  Shadow follows him and I follow Shadow outside down a small path through the rain until we reach a one-room shed in back of the church. It’s full of gardening tools, pots, rakes, and a lawn mower, but tucked in the back along the wall and under a tiny window there is a camp cot. Shadow immediately bounds over and jumps on it. I start to reprimand him.

  “It’s okay,” the man says. “You can rest here. No one comes in but me. There are some towels and blankets.” He points to a chest of drawers.

  A room with a roof, a window, a bed, and blankets! “Thank you,” I say. Shadow has already snuggled himself in a ball but looks up and wags his tail.

  “You must need magic,” the man says. He puts his hand on my shoulder. “You will be all right.” Then he turns and leaves.

  I leave the shed as soon as the sun is up. It’s stopped raining and I want to get a fresh start to make up for lost time.

  I walk for a long time on a stretch of straight road. There is no sidewalk, but there is a raised curb in front of the barrier. I take a rest to massage my feet. Shadow takes advantage of a shady spot to lie down while I finish the rest of a sandwich I’ve been saving since my last dumpster rummage.

  The air is still. The sky is such a crisp, crystal blue that colors everywhere are enhanced. Touches of yellow, red, and orange creep along the edges of every leaf. Everything sparkles. I close my eyes and imagine the ocean with the sun glistening on the surface and the horizon a straight sharp line, only a few rocky islands to break it up. The kind of day I used to love. And if the air was at all warm enough, you could take one last plunge of the season into the icy cold waters.

  I hold my face to the sun. I used to spend so many of my days just killing time. My parents called me apathetic. “Do something,” they said. “Get some exercise. Join a club. Make some friends.” But I didn’t do anything, just listened to music, watched TV, and waited for something to happen. In the summer I waited for school to start. Once it started, I waited for it to end. I never called my friends. I waited for them to call me, which they did for a while, but eventually they stopped. I waited for someone to ask me out. I figured if I just waited long enough, eventually something would happen, and finally someone did ask me out. Was that really what I had been waiting for all along?

  Shadow comes over to sit with me. I put my arm around him. “I don’t know anything,” I say.

  He quirks his head, listening hard.

  “You know so much. You’re a dog, and you know way more than I ever will.”

  He touches my hand with his cold, wet nose.

  We sit like that for a few minutes, until Shadow lets out a deep sigh and does a full-body shake. Stop waiting, he says.

  I get up. “Guess it’s time to push on, then.”

  There is a long hill in front of me. We must be nearing the mountains, which means there are many more mountains beyond before we get to the coast. But I suppose I am getting closer. Bit by bit.

  I make the slow climb upward, then all the way down. When I get to the bottom the wind slows to stillness. I stop and listen.

  I look behind. Nothing is there. The air moves in small ripples, as though it’s been disturbed. Then I hear, ever so faintly, what sounds like a thousand marching footsteps approaching. I almost expect to see an army with cavalry and spears appear out of mist, ready to storm into battle.

  On the crest of the hill a long line of people emerges. They are backed by the sun, so they are dark silhouettes. They are coming straight toward me. They take up the width of the road. Slowly they cross the top of the hill and start to descend. Behind them is another row and another and another.

  There are so many. As they get closer, I can see some of them are holding signs. I watch, frozen, until I’m afraid they wi
ll see me. I jump over the rail and crouch behind a tree to watch. Shadow starts barking and I tell him to be quiet. He joins me in the bushes.

  It looks like a parade, but it’s so quiet. There’s none of the usual parade cheers or singing or dancing. No floats or costumes. Just the marching of feet. Their signs and Tshirts say things like NO MORE WAR and WALK FOR PEACE and LOVE IS THE WAY. There are at least a hundred people or more—old, young, and in between. No one is talking. Where they’ve come from or where they’re going, I don’t know. It’s odd that they are walking on this road, since no one is here to see them.

  I watch from my hiding spot. Mostly I see their feet. They all have good sneakers or boots. Some wear little packs around their waists to carry water or snacks, but their arms swing free.

  At the very end of the parade two vans follow slowly. Both have peace signs painted on the side. I imagine they are full of supplies—water, food, extra weather gear, maybe even tents and sleeping bags if the marchers are camping.

  I wait until they all pass and the vans are well out of sight before I step onto the road and continue.

  Shadow and I are alone again until I hear the squeaky brakes of a bicycle behind me. Before I can duck into the bushes again, it reaches me and slows down.

  I notice the bike first. It’s a rusty green women’s no-speed. A wire basket is duct-taped to the handlebars. In the basket are pieces of computers—a smashed laptop screen, an ancient-looking keyboard, and a variety of green innards with silver and yellow wires spilling over the edge.

  “Heya,” the rider says. He is thin with a thick shaggy mop of hair falling over his ears and he’s wearing equally sloppy clothes. He looks like he should be on a Harley instead of this funky, ancient bicycle. He certainly doesn’t look like he’s part of the parade. He is smiling, and even though his teeth are crooked and at least a couple of them are chipped, it’s a nice smile.

  “Cute dog.” His voice is squirrelly and old-sounding, even though he’s not old at all. Maybe twenty. Shadow does his little wiggle dance, and the guy laughs. “He could be a circus dog.”

  I put my head down and keep walking. He stays on the bike but pedals extra slow to match my pace. The bike wheels squeak in time.

  I stand still, hoping he will give up and bike past me, but instead he stops and gets off.

  As he leans to pet Shadow I glimpse a red and yellow snake tattoo curling out of his T-shirt sleeve and down his forearm. It’s very detailed and intricate.

  “Hey, pupster,” he says, holding out his hand for Shadow to inspect. “Looks like you’ve seen a thing or two.”

  Shadow stands all perky and gives his tail a straight-up wag. The guy rubs Shadow’s neck. When he’s done, Shadow turns around and leans into him. The guy slaps his butt. This makes Shadow wiggle again with joy.

  I steal a closer glance at the guy. Before I can turn away, our eyes lock. His eyes are almost purple, with hardly any white around them. I can see my reflection. At least I think it’s me. I break the gaze quickly. Looking at people’s eyes makes me uncomfortable.

  He opens his mouth, then closes it. I think he wants to ask me something, but he doesn’t. I’m relieved.

  “Well, got to get to work.” He gives Shadow a final slap, gets back on the bike, and pedals down the road. There’s something kind of surreal and almost comical about him on that bike.

  Shadow chases him for a minute, then bounces back. I like him, he announces with a bark.

  “Not much I can do about that,” I say. “He’s gone.”

  It is dark when I come across a car parked on the side of the road. A dark blue station wagon, old and dinged up. Cautiously I peer inside. Empty. My guess is that it broke down and the driver went for help. Or maybe he just up and walked away. In any case, the door is unlocked. I hop into the driver’s seat. I check out the glove compartment. Along with the regular stuff, there’s a bunch of maps, some gum, Chap Stick, and a chewy granola bar. I grab the granola bar, rip open the package, and eat it without thinking.

  There’s also a fancy woman’s watch. It’s on a silver band interwoven with gold in a crisscross pattern. The face is small and outlined in ringlets of tiny jewels. I don’t know much about watches, but this one looks expensive. I put it on my wrist.

  “What do you think?” I show Shadow. “Is it me?”

  For a second I contemplate taking it—I could sell it and buy food, maybe some clean clothes. And if it’s worth a lot, I could even stay in a hotel with a shower and tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner. I could buy Shadow a pretty matching collar and leash.

  Shadow reaches toward the watch and attempts to put my wrist and the watch in his mouth. I pull back. “Hey, are you trying to bite me?”

  He shakes his head and frowns. I take off the watch and put it back in the glove compartment. “I wasn’t really going to take it. It didn’t even work. The second hand wasn’t moving.” For some reason I feel the need to explain this to Shadow.

  Shadow jumps into the back and sniffs all over the place. I crawl into the back with him. There’s an old towel on the floor that I use for a blanket.

  Shadow snuggles with me. A few cars pass and I hold my breath, but no one stops, and then there is just the quiet of the road in the night.

  I wake first to Shadow barking and then a tap, tap, tap on the window. It’s a police officer. I jump up and into the front seat.

  Panic. Is this it? I have been found. There’s no hiding now. I hush Shadow and roll down the window.

  “You can’t sleep here, miss.” His white mustache frowns when he moves his mouth.

  “I’m sorry.” It comes out no more than a croak.

  “There’s no parking on the side of the road.”

  I think fast. There’s only one way out of this, and that’s to lie. I quickly find my voice. “The car broke down.” Then I add, “sir,” because somewhere I heard that if you are polite to a cop, they are more likely to let you go.

  “You got a license?”

  “I do, but not with me.” This isn’t quite a lie. I did get my permit a few months ago. “My brother was driving. It’s his car. It broke down. He went for help.” Shoot, I should have said mother or father. Two kids on the road sounds more suspicious than one kid and an adult. “My older brother,” I add.

  “Can I see your registration?” The officer taps his clipboard.

  I reach into the glove compartment and sift through the things I found last night, including the fancy watch, until I get to the manual. The yellow registration slip is tucked inside. Before I give it to the officer, Shadow nudges my hand. I glance at the name, then hand the registration to the cop.

  “Ryan Sanchez?” the officer reads, and twists his mustache with his fingers. “That’s your brother?”

  “Well, no. I mean, yes. Yes, that’s his name. It’s his car.”

  Either the cop doesn’t notice my bad lying or he doesn’t care, or maybe he takes pity on me. “Neither one of you has a phone? You couldn’t call for a tow?” he asks.

  “No, sir. No phone.”

  Shadow was sitting next to me on the passenger side, but now he stands and pushes his head over me out the window. He stares long and hard at the cop. The cop doesn’t move or say anything. He and Shadow are transfixed.

  Finally the cop lets his hand with the clipboard drop to his side. “I’ll be right back,” he says. He goes to his car. I can see him in the rearview mirror, looking up stuff in the computer. I rest my hand on Shadow, close my eyes, and cross my fingers.

  He saunters back and gives me the registration. “Your brother has his license, I assume?”

  “Yes, sir. He’s twenty-two. He’s an excellent driver.” Lie. The lying is getting a little easier.

  “And where were you two headed before you broke down?”

  “To visit his girlfriend. She’s not far from here.” Lie. Lie.

  “Do your parents know where you are?”

  This question rolls around in my head. Do my parents know where I am
? Do I know where my parents are?

  “Miss? Are you okay? Can I call someone for you?”

  I shake my head. Breathe. “They’re out of town,” I say. Lie. Lie. Lie.

  “I could give you a ride to meet up with your brother,” he offers.

  I think the cop is just trying to help now. I don’t think he’s going to take me in. I don’t think he recognizes me as anybody. See what a little lie can do?

  “Thanks,” I say, “but he’ll be back soon. He’ll freak if I’m not here. I’ll wait.”

  The officer scratches his chin. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll pretend I didn’t see you sleeping in this car, which shouldn’t be parked on the side of the road in the first place. I’m going to drive by here in a couple of hours. If you and the car are still here, I’ll have to write you up and we’ll have to find your brother.”

  “Okay.”

  The officer takes off his cap. He smooths back his remaining strand of hair. “Take it to Phil’s Auto on Route 36. He won’t screw you.”

  “Okay, thank you, sir.”

  “Two hours and I’ll be back.”

  He gets into his car, and after a few painful forever minutes he drives off.

  I let out my breath, but my heart is still pumping ferociously.

  I am walking into another town. There are more cars and more people than other towns. A lot of the cars are from faraway states, and there are a lot of fancy boutiques selling overpriced and over-fashioned outdoor gear, so I’m guessing this is a tourist town for hikers.

  I come to a supermarket—a smaller version of a big chain. The parking lot is busy with cars and carts. People load bags full of groceries into their trunks. A few take a gander at me, but I keep my eyes down to avoid connection. I try to pass for a tourist.

  Outside the entrance, leaning against a bike rack, I notice the funky green woman’s bike from yesterday. The weird computer stuff is still in the basket. I recall that guy’s dark eyes and his snake tattoo.

  “Wait here,” I tell Shadow. “I’ll bring you a treat.” I give him a pat.

  He sits, already eager and ready.

  I enter the supermarket and am taken aback by all the food. There are vegetables and fruits galore, a deli of meats and cheeses, a bakery oozing with bread and sweets. In the middle aisles is everything imaginable: a thousand kinds of cereal, coffee and endless types of tea, baking needs, jars of peanut butter, household cleaners. Every single thing a person might need or want, and then some. I’d forgotten there could be this much food in one place.