Follow the Stars Home (52 page)

And then he stopped the car.

Amy looked around. The road was wide open. A short distance ahead was a bridge. She didn't think she had ever seen it before. Her mother had never been one for nature rides, and on their excursions last summer, Dianne had never driven this way. Buddy got out of the car. He had something in his hand, but Amy was too excited to see what it was: He was letting them out!

“Oh,” she said, scrambling past him when he opened the door. Orion was right behind her.

“What do you say?” he asked.

“Thank you, Buddy,” she said.

She was trembling, but stretching her legs felt good. The wind blew fresh and clean across the wide open road. It would be a long walk home, she and Orion would be tired and cold, but she didn't care. Whatever little lesson Buddy had wanted to teach her, she'd pretend to go along with it.

“Hey, you're welcome,” he said.

They were just standing there, facing each other. He had a chipped front tooth and a lightning-bolt tattoo on his neck that she hadn't noticed before.

“We'll walk home,” Amy said, trying to smile.

“You
will,” he said.

That's when Amy realized that Orion hadn't gotten out of the car. He was frozen in terror, trying to burrow underneath the empty food boxes. Amy's stomach lurched. She knew she had to act fast. Orion was as helpless as Julia. If Julia were trapped in Buddy's car, Amy would be just as afraid. Buddy could drive away with him, and Amy would never see him again.

“Here, Orion,” she whispered, patting the side of her leg. Her mouth was almost too dry to speak. “Here, boy.”

“What'd you call him?” Buddy asked, transferring whatever he had been holding to his other hand.

Amy stared, unable to reply.

“Because I thought I heard you call him something stupid,” Buddy said. “His name is Slash.”

Amy still stared.

“Slash and I have some unfinished business,” Buddy said, shaking out the burlap sack he had been holding. It snapped like a whip, and the dog whimpered.

“Buddy, no,” Amy cried, screaming as she realized
what he was going to do. She tried pulling his arm, using every bit of her might.

Buddy brushed her aside like dandelion fluff and yanked the dog out of the car. He stuffed Orion in the sack as if he were dirty shirts. The dog had grown since summer; he was sleek and graceful, his dark coat glossy from all the love and good food Dianne fed him, from his days of romping in the sun.

Amy grabbed Buddy's arm, tugging as hard as she could. Orion was in the sack, and the sack was twisted shut in Buddy's hand. Buddy's cowboy boots with their metal studs clicked loudly against the pavement, click-click-click, as he strode rapidly toward the bridge.

Amy was sobbing now, begging. “Don't do it, Buddy,” she cried. “Take me. Do something to me. He's just an innocent dog—”

“Shut”-click-click-click-“up.”

“Buddy, no,” Amy said, holding on to Buddy's shirt. She knew about horrible things men did to young girls. She had asked Marla Arden about some of them back when Marla interviewed Amy to find out what Buddy had done. Amy knew about bad touching and bad talking, and she knew about rape, and that was what she had been expecting when they had driven through the darkest part of the forest. Weeping now because she had been fearing it so much, that terror had been the awful unfamiliar taste in her mouth.

The bridge was high.

It was made of ornate green metal, as if it had been built a long time before by someone who wanted it to look beautiful in this lovely natural setting. It spanned an inlet, only about thirty feet wide, of water rushing to the sea. A brook started it all, up in the hills, widening as it tumbled over rocks and
moss, entering the wide silver sea at this spot under this bridge.

“Guard dogs who won't train are worth shit,” Buddy said, looking Amy in the eye. He drew his foot back as if he were going to kick Orion in the bag.

“Don't kick him,” Amy howled.

“You think you can bargain for this dog?” Buddy asked.

Amy stared. She heard the lobster boat buzzing like a mosquito in the distance. Waving or calling for help wouldn't do any good. The boat was too far away. This was between her and Buddy.

“Go ahead,” Buddy said. “Bargain.”

“Let him go,” Amy whispered, watching Orion move in the bag. She thought of how dark it must be in there, and she hoped he felt a little safer, the way he felt when he was under the bed.

“Keep talking …” Buddy said, touching Amy's hair.

“Please,” Amy said, crying.

“Please?” he asked.

Breathing funny, Buddy brought his face close to hers. She felt his slimy fingers on her cheeks, sliding down her neck. He took her hand, pressed it on the front of his jeans.

She squeaked, trying to hold back her sob. She tried to think of Dianne, of her strength, of what she would do. Buddy had been smoking, and he dropped his cigarette on the road. She heard him grind it out with his boot. When she opened her eyes, he was holding the sack higher. Now he had purpose in his narrow gaze, as if he were thinking of Amy now and all he wanted to do was get rid of the dog.

“No,” Amy said, seeing him move toward the rail.

“Unfinished business,” he said.

And then he dropped the sack.

Amy looked down. The water rushed and swirled. It was dark, brown with weeds and silt from the land. The sack hit the water with a big splash. It floated for a minute. Amy held her breath, tears flowing down her face. She prayed to see Orion's nose, his front paws with their little white tips, emerge from the sack.

The sea carried the sack out the inlet quickly. It moved as it flowed, as if the puppy were fighting to get free. Amy could almost see the dog's legs kicking as the burlap bag tumbled along in the current.

The bag floated for a few seconds more, and then it started sinking.

“No!” Amy screamed.

Orion can swim, Amy thought. If he could just get out. She had seen him swim in Dianne's marsh, on the beach at Prince Edward Island. He was a water dog, a good swimmer! But he was trapped inside the sack, drowning before her very eyes.

“You wanna walk or you wanna ride?” Buddy asked.

Amy bit her lip. She was sobbing blindly, watching the burlap bag sink. She felt his hand on her hair, tugging gently, as if he were just playing. She thought of all the things she'd talked about with Marla Arden, she thought about sinking into the swamp of Buddy's world, and then she thought of Dianne and Julia and life worth living. Amy thought about saving her own life.

Hers and Orion's.

Amy jumped off the bridge.

Amy swam and drifted. The water was freezing. She gulped, trying to stay afloat. The sea pulled her in, drawing her away from the land. Buddy standing on the bridge looked so far away. He was staring at her, but then he got into his car and drove off. She saw that, the way he just left her for dead.

The current pulled her so Amy hardly had to swim. She was weighted down with her jeans and coat, yanking her under. The waves were small here, but big enough to splash over her head, go up her nose. She tried to yell for Orion, but she couldn't make a sound. She barely had the energy to breathe.

From up above Amy had been able to see the sack. It had seemed like such an easy thing: to dive in and swim straight to the dog and save them both. She felt the panic of knowing she didn't have time. The burlap bag had sunk, she had seen it, and even now Orion would be choking on seawater. The inlet that had looked so narrow was actually wide, and the sea that was pulling her along was vaster than she had ever imagined.

Daddy
, she thought.

He was under the waves, her father. Amy's eyes stung with saltwater and salt tears, and she struggled, feeling for her dog, for Orion. She wanted him to swim up and nudge her; together they would stroke toward shore. Her father was a dolphin; sleek and strong, he could bear them to safety.

The tide was ebbing. It was pulling freshwater from the brooks and streams, ponds and rivers, straight out to the sea. Amy fought against it, knowing the farther out she went, the worse it would be. She cried, struggling against her wet clothes. Waves broke over her head. They were bigger now, because she had drifted so far out.

The waves smashed her down. They tossed her up and smacked her down. Amy fought them. The harder she resisted, the more it hurt. She could hardly get a breath. The sky was steel gray, and it blended into the waves. Foam filled her nose. She choked, fighting the sea. And then she remembered Dianne.

“Be a seal,” Dianne had told her last summer when she had taught her to ride the waves.

Be a seal
, Amy thought. She made herself sleek and straight. Not a dolphin, not a black dog. She wasn't thinking straight.
A seal
, she told herself. Free of everything, so slippery, she'd just slide through the crashing waves. Orion and her father were helping her, Dianne was telling her to keep her head down, her arms out straight. Bodysurfing, that's right. So what if it's November, so what if there's no beach?

Amy just thought of the people and dog she loved so much, and she kept her head down just like Dianne had told her, and she made herself sleek like a seal, and she held her breath until she thought her lungs would burst, and that is how Amy Brooks
came to ride the waves to safety, straight onto the Landsdowne Shoal.

Only one rock protruded from the sea, and only for one fraction of one hour twice every day. The tide had gone out enough, and it hadn't turned to come back, so that rock was exposed and Amy was able to haul herself up. Sputtering, spitting up seawater, shivering so hard she couldn't control her limbs, Amy climbed onto the jagged brown rock.

A lobster boat was circling a buoy. Amy saw it now. She tried to raise her arm, but when she moved, she lost her grip and began to slide off the rock.

“Help!” she yelled.

The rock was coated with black sea moss as slimy as grease. It was covered with barnacles and mussels, and they sliced Amy's hands with their shells. From up there Amy could see all around. She screamed for help, but she didn't stop scanning the surface for Orion.

“Help!” she called. “Save me!”

There was no one on land. Buddy's car had disappeared. The lobsterman leaned overboard, pulled up one of his pots. His engine was going. Couldn't he hear her? Amy screamed louder. “Daddy!” she heard herself screaming. “Daddy!”

She was just like a baby now. She was sobbing so hard, clinging to a rock that wouldn't hold her, grieving for the puppy she had been unable to save. “Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy!” rang in her ears.

The boat was going away. She saw it sweep around in a big circle, its wake spreading out behind like a train of white stars. The whitewater churned and foamed, then smoothed into a silver river as bright and wide as the Milky Way. Stars danced before Amy's eyes, through her tears.

“Help!” she screamed one last time, watching the boat leave her behind. “Help me!”

A dog barked.

Trembling, Amy couldn't believe her ears. She clung to her rock, icy water streaming down her body. Straining to listen, she heard it again: a dog's sharp, insistent yelps.
Oh, Orion
, she sobbed. She was dreaming of her puppy.

“Help!” Amy cried. “Help me!”

The boat turned around. Its hull was white with a red cove stripe, and its bow was pointed straight at Amy, coming head-on. She shivered and slipped. The stars were brighter, flashing in her eyes. She spit out more seawater, scrambled to hold on. The barking dog sounded louder. Amy was drowning, going to the sea, Orion was calling her into the deep to be with her father.

“Hang on,” a man's voice called. “Just hold tight.”

“I can't,” Amy cried, her hands sore and bleeding, the waves splashing her feet and legs.

“Here we are,” the man said. “Okay, just a second—”

He cut the engine. The boat drifted closer. The man was short and old, with gray whiskers and a yellow slicker over his bright orange overalls. His face was as withered as one of Amy's apples, and his eyes were blue as a summer sky. He was talking nonstop, saying something about having to take care in shoal waters, not wanting to sink his boat before he had the chance to save her.