We parted ways after that, Mart heading into the park store to shop for stuffed raccoons, and me traveling to my next appointment. The afternoon clicked along on schedule for a change, and I was home by five thirty – in time, I hoped, to catch Mart when he dropped off the water safety form for my client.
Dustin had removed himself to his room when he heard me driving up, as usual. Standing in his doorway, I made the mistake of asking him if the game warden had been by. Maybe I said it with too much familiarity, or maybe, now that we were less than a week away from the water safety course, he had begun descending into panic mode, but suddenly, he had a renewed determination.“I’m not going to that stupid class. I’ve got stuff to do – the summer reading and all the workbook junk. Grandpa said he’d pay the fine.”
“No, Grandpa’s
not
paying the fine.” I felt my blood pressure rising. The situation with Dustin wasn’t being helped by my parents butting in all the time. “Do you realize because you’re a minor, that ticket starts a process in juvenile court?”
“Everyone else is doing it. They’re not worried.”
“Everyone, who?”
“Everyone else who was on the boat.”
I was momentarily confused.“How do you know that? Have you been talking to those kids again?” He shrugged, remaining reclined on his bed, his gaze fixed on the top bunk. “Dustin, look at me. You’ve been talking with those kids after I told you not to?”
“Just Cassandra, mostly. Just texting.” He rolled over with a huff.
“Cassandra, who?” I demanded. On top of everything else, there was a girl involved, and she was texting back and forth with my son? Dustin had no experience with girls, other than as friends. So far, he hadn’t shown any interest in dating.
So far . . .
“Her mom cleans cabins down from the Waterbird, and at the Eagle’s Nest. It’s no big deal, Mom.” Dustin’s cheek and ear turned red, conveying that
no big deal
wasn’t an accurate description. “What? Now I’m not allowed to text, either?”
A dizzying swirl of teenage possibilities ran through my mind. The Eagle’s Nest resort was within walking distance of Larkspur Estates – just past the public access area and boat ramp my mother had always warned us about.
“Has anyone been over here while I’m away at work?”
Please,
please, please
, the voice in my head was saying.
I’m not ready for this
issue.
Dustin rolled his eyes, like I was an idiot for asking. “No. Cassandra’s grounded, too.”
Thank you, God.
So Cassandra did have parents – real parents who grounded their child and stuck to it. “Maybe she’ll end up going to the water safety class, then.” I couldn’t believe I was suggesting that, but right now, I just wanted the fight to be over.
“I doubt it,” Dustin grumbled.
“Have you asked her?”
“Uhh . . . no. She’ll think I’m a loser. Everyone’s gonna see me getting hauled out of here by the lake cop, like a . . . a flippin’ convict. When school starts, nobody’s gonna want to get within ten feet of me. I’m not going there, either.”
“To school?” Tension pinched the back of my neck, like a clothespin snapping over skin, hanging me out to dry.
Nodding, Dustin tunneled into the pillow and threw an arm over his face. Tears seeped from beneath, wetting his cheeks, slowly drawing a dark blot on the brown pillowcase.
“Dustin,” I said softly, crossing the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. I laid a hand on his shoulder, and he immediately rolled away, a low sob escaping him. “I know you’re nervous about school. That’s natural. It’s a lot of changes at once, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to be bad. You’re such a great kid. There’s no way this . . . Cassandra, or anyone else, could keep from seeing that. You just be yourself and you won’t have any trouble making friends. And give the water safety class a chance. Maybe it won’t be that bad, and when you finish, you’ll know how to use a boat the right way.”
“Pppfff!” he spat. “Like we’ll ever be able to afford a boat.”
Grief poured over me in wet, heavy shovelfuls. One of the things that hit Dustin the hardest about our new life was the change in finances. He’d always had everything he wanted. Now it was a struggle to manage the debts I’d assumed in the divorce, pay off lawyers, and provide necessities.
It’s your father’s fault!
I wanted to scream.
He did this. Where is he
now? Why isn’t he here? He should have to see what he’s done. He should be
the one watching you cry.
I wanted to run from the room and call Karl again and again and again, until he answered. I wanted to tell him that our son was curled up in a ball on his bed, sobbing. Again.
Instead, I folded my hands in my lap, closed my eyes, tried to think of something comforting to say. “It’ll be all right.” The words fell flat, and tears stung my eyes in the silence afterward. I stood up and left the room, feeling like I’d never find my way across the chasm the divorce had left behind.
Please,
the word whispered in my mind.
Please bring Dustin what he needs. Please bring him someone
he can depend on.
It wasn’t much of a prayer – just a scrap of one, really – but it was something.
I went to my bedroom, changed into shorts and a T-shirt from some long-forgotten discipleship weekend, and splashed water on my face to tamp down the heat of emotion. Rather than breaking apart and spending another evening with my head buried under a blanket, I sat on the sofa, pulled out my briefcase and laptop, and spent the time catching up on case files.
While I was working, I started a file on Birdie. The more I thought about it, the more I knew that we had to get CPS involved, one way or another. There were so many risks in Birdie’s situation – Len’s mental capacity, the dogs and other animals she might come in contact with, water-related dangers, undoubtedly firearms in the home, the questions about Birdie’s mother. What if this mother, whoever she was, simply came back and picked Birdie up? They could disappear without a trace. A child in Birdie’s situation needed to be monitored by the legal system and assessed in terms of physical, emotional, and educational needs.
Setting the computer aside, I rested my head against the chair and let out a long sigh, trying to sort through all the potential problems. I wanted to talk it over with someone – with Mart. I wondered where he was, and why he hadn’t come by with the form for Daniel, and what his thoughts about Birdie’s situation were now. . . .
The cell phone ringing woke me, and I sat up, confused. I’d been asleep long enough to have lost track of where I was and what I’d been doing. Picking up the phone, I answered, blinking the fog from my eyes.
Mart was on the other end. “This is Mart McClendon.” The greeting seemed strangely formal, as if my voice had caught him by surprise. “Sorry to be calling so late. I got tied up with a stolen-boat case. I figured I’d get your voice mail.”
“No, you got the real thing.” I glanced at the clock. Eleven thirty. Down the hall, Dustin’s music was blaring, the bass rattling the walls, so that the house seemed to have a heartbeat. “I was up working.”
“I didn’t mean to catch you by surprise,” Mart apologized again. “I just didn’t want to head in for the night without letting you know I can bring the water safety form by tomorrow. I got a little more information about Len and Birdie this afternoon, though.”
Head in for the night . . .
I wondered where he was, and why he was working at almost midnight. I felt mildly guilty for the fact that he felt he had to call me. “We can wait until morning to talk, if that’s better.”
“Nah.” I heard the rumble of an engine behind his voice. “I was just on my way home. Wanted to call while it was on my mind.”
I was on his mind
, fluttered through my head, bright and giddy like a bluebird. I quickly shooed the thought away.
It
. He’d said
it
was on his mind, as in the issue involving Len, and possibly the water safety form. “Where are you?” Blood prickled into my cheeks. That sounded like an invitation.
“Down here on the lake. I saw your light on.”
He saw my light on?
So he hadn’t expected to get my voice mail, after all. . . . Something did a hitch kick inside me. I stood up and walked to the window, gazed down at the expanse of velvety blackness that was the water. Above the hills, the moon rocked on its back, a large, lazy half circle, casting a silvery trail across the water. I scanned the expanse for boats. Tonight the lake was as still and silent as ink in a well. “Where?” Standing on my toes, I gazed toward the Scissortail. Maybe he’d been flagging buoy-zone violators again.
Red and green navigation lights came on and glittered against the water below our dock. “Right here,” he said. “See me now?”
I’m coming down there.
The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I looked down at the old T-shirt and shorts, slid a hand over my lopsided ponytail, and thought,
I can’t go out there like this . . . in the
middle of the night.
“Oh, okay, I can see you now.” What a completely bland, uninteresting thing to say. Backing away from the window, I had the unsettling thought that if I could see the boat, he could probably see me standing in the window. “What did you find out about Len?”
“I should probably just catch you tomorrow.” His voice was flat, no longer throaty, warm, inviting. What was the undercurrent I heard in those words? Disappointment? “It’s complicated.”
You are absolutely no fun,
Bonnie complained in my head.
I pictured myself slipping into the flip-flops from the back porch, running down the hill, the dewy grass cool and slippery underfoot. I tasted the night air, heard the water ripple softly, bending and changing the moon glow, making it dance.
You shouldn’t. You have absolutely no business going down there. He’ll
think it’s an invitation. Besides, you look terrible. What if the neighbors
see . . .
“Hang on a minute, I’m coming down.” My heart zinged into my throat, and before I could do one more thing to talk myself out of it, I went silently through the back door and slid my feet into the flip-flops. At the Blues’ house, a little dog barked warily. Pressing a hand over my mouth, I snickered, feeling like a schoolgirl sneaking out after curfew. Even as a schoolgirl, I would have been afraid to sneak out at night. I’d heard too many warnings about the reasons I shouldn’t, couldn’t, had better not.
Freedom, life, exhilaration swirled through me as I dashed down the hill in the moon shadow of pecan trees. An owl hooted, and I stopped short, then laughed silently at myself and continued toward the water, my feet landing in the wet grass, splashes of dew flicking upward, showering my skin with cool pinpoints. I felt alive for the first time in recent memory – as if in this moment, running alone through the night, I could leave behind everything I dragged with me during the day. Here, in the darkness, I was free of those burdens, free of myself.
When I neared the water, I could hear Mart’s boat bumping the dock in the darkness. By reflex, I reached for the light switch as I passed the electrical box, but then I left it be. There was enough moonlight to see by. At the end of the dock, Mart was throwing his mooring line over a post. He stepped off the boat, a tall dark figure silhouetted against the moon.
My heart rose into my throat, and a rush of possibilities whirled through me – fast, wild, out of control. Stopping at the edge of the grass, I smoothed my clothes, tried to catch my breath. Mart waited, leaning against the railing near his boat, his long legs crossed comfortably, his head tilted as if he were watching me approach.
I wondered how much he could see. Maybe the faded T-shirt and oversized shorts didn’t show in the moonlight. Maybe I looked like Julia Roberts, striding down the beach in a scene with warm, false lighting.
Not likely, but the fantasy was a confidence booster.
“Hey.” Mart’s greeting seemed quiet, intimate. “You get your feet wet?”
I realized that my flip-flops were making squishy, flatulent sounds as I walked. So much for the movie-scene image. Julia Roberts never made squishy sounds when she walked.“It felt good,” I said, a giddy giggle in the words. “In all the years we came to the lake, my mother never let us walk down here at night. She was always afraid we’d step on a snake or catch some disease from a mosquito bite.”
“Doesn’t look like you’re afraid.” It was probably one of the nicest things he could have said to me. He had no way of knowing that, of course.
“I’m not.” It was a lie, but I wanted it to be true. Stopping beside him, I rested my palms on the railing and gazed at the water. “It’s gorgeous out here.” Mother didn’t know what she was missing.
“It is,” Mart agreed. “It’s my favorite part of the job – being on the lake after dark.”
“I can see why.” Taking in a long draft of moist air, I tipped my head back. A million stars poured out across the sky, so bright and close it seemed as if I could feel their heat on my skin. How foolish I was to have wasted evening after evening curled up on the sofa crying, when something so incredible was right outside my door. Here, with soft currents strumming the shoreline and the black velvet sky stretching toward the horizon, it was hard to feel as if anything could be wrong in the entire world. “Guess I should get out more.”
“Guess you should.” From the corner of my eye, I saw him reach down and scoop a pebble off the dock, then skim it across the lake. “You really haven’t seen it until you’ve seen it from the water. How about a ride?”