Light the Hidden Things (25 page)

That evening, with dinner and sitting in the park, showed what he really was like.

How long had the evening been? Three hours?

Sometimes if seemed like ages, all packed with intensity. Other times it seemed like a flash or two of connection separated by clouds of idle chatter.

Doctor Newton said, "I have your word, then? You'll call if you have any questions at all? Even more importantly, talk to him about the Pacific Medical Center or the VA hospital in Seattle. They both have people who understand the wounded warriors. They're as dedicated as they are overworked and as tough as they are compassionate. Make him contact them."

They both nodded. Lila told the two men, "I'm going to try to talk some sense into him. If I'm not making any headway or if I run out of gas, I'll call for help, Pastor, okay?"

He nodded approval. As she walked toward the Airstream, Newton got in his car and started it. He and the Pastor shook hands. Newton looked back to the couple. Major sprawled between them. Their conversation appeared to be civil but too brisk for friendly. Newton asked the Pastor, "You ever make a bet, Pastor?"

Pastor Richards laughed. "My profession is one long bet on good against evil. Never for money, though; only souls. "

"We've got a lot in common. You and souls, me and lives." Newton bobbed his head toward Lila and Crow. "Tell you what; I've got a proposition for you."

"A bet involving those two?"

Newton put his car in gear. "I'm saying he'll break her heart. When you get home and convince yourself he won't, you call me. I'll cover any amount. I can always use the money."

Lila led the way downhill. She said, "You know how serious this could be."

Crow's silence went on so long she thought he'd closed her out completely. Her first reaction was to demand he answer. Stubbornness cut in: If he thought he could make her do all the talking, he needed another guess.

Crow finally said, "Yes."

Lila sputtered. "That's it? 'Yes?' I ask you a reasonable question about your survival and all you've got is 'Yes?'"

When he looked at her and smiled, she saw beyond a damaged man to the boy who'd smiled embarrassment. "I'm not about to hurt anyone. All I want is to hole up. None of that makes me an evil person."

She continued picking her way downhill toward the Strait, glaring at the ragged gaps in the dissipating fog. Why couldn't Crow's injury fade out the same way? Life was to enjoy, to bring enjoyment to others. It wasn't meant to be dangerous. Or lonely.

In mid-stride she was suddenly revisiting Crow's departure from Lupine and the other-worldly sense of another mind blending with her own. The effect was hypnotic. Lila continued to walk, uncaring about the uncertain footing, confident that the part of her mind controlling her movements was as aware as ever. The rest of her being concentrated on that voice, although it was more than that. Impressions and images became messages. As unnerving as it had been, she savored it. It was a sharing, The woman who came to her for those few moments knew both heart-breaking sadness and soaring joy.

Lila stopped abruptly, unaware of Crow, unaware of anything except secret discovery. The contact hadn't come to explain or probe. She came to prepare her for a day like this. The revelation filled her with light. This meeting with Crow wasn't about just trying to save Crow. It included saving herself.

Impressions pounded in her consciousness, drumbeats. She was aware how gloriously happy Crow was once. The signs were unmistakable; his easy banter, his ready smile. Fragments of what that man had been. Loss and sorrow had claimed everything else.

That was when the words repeated in her memory, blazing clear.
What we can create within ourselves can refuse any boundary. Any of us can be broken, but we can create something that lives far beyond us.

And then she grasped the reason behind the sudden sense of risk. Originally, she heard the words as pure optimism, a definition of hope surviving damage. Now she felt a parallel warning. Perhaps if one tried to create something so powerful, one could be destroyed by it.

That could be what had happened to Crow. And someone else. A woman.

Very probably Crow's wife.

What about me? Will I be broken before I'm ever whole?

*          *          *          *          *

When Crow caught up to her there was irritability in his voice. "What's so evil about wanting to be left alone? I don't..."

She rounded on him so quickly he clipped off the end of his sentence. She said, "No one ever said you're evil. Evil always has a purpose." Her arms and hands were flying in all directions. He'd broken off her interior dialogue, possibly cheated her out of other insights. Now this - his same tired defense of the indefensible. This was
exactly
the conversation she'd told herself wasn't going to happen, and here it was, in living color, and it was all his blind, me-me-me fault and he wasn't going to get away with it. "You just... You just
happen
. You don't have any purpose except the next fish. We were fools to come here. Especially me. I even offered to let you park your Secret Escape Machine on my place."

"You did that?" His surprise stopped her. It also made her realize she'd better inhale. While she did, he added, "I didn't think..."

Crow had to catch his own breath.

Don't even think about how such giving comes naturally to her. You'd be comparing her to Patricia. Patricia would be hurt.

I'd hurt Lila, too. Letting her think I could come back to the world where she belongs. It'd end up just like last time.

But it wasn't as if she had no blame in the situation. Still, he had a right to explain. "I figured you and Zasu were sort of like me and Major, except you need to be in one place. And there's that guy - Vanderkirk; he's more than just your friend. He won't like me and Major..."

"Hold it. Whatever you think about me and Van, we're none of your damned business. Nothing I choose to do is any of his damned business. Do you understand?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. It's just when you offered the place I wondered about him. I mean, you know, the situation."

Her eyes narrowed. "What situation? Exactly what were you thinking about me?"

"Whoa. I wasn't thinking whatever you think I was thinking. All I meant was, it could make trouble for you. Me staying there, and him - you know." He blinked, stammered. "You know."

"No, I don't know. Whatever you were thinking, you were wrong."

Crow sought refuge in silence. He looked out to sea. Miles of the Strait were clearly visible now, the fog a stage setting of wings and distant backdrop. In the open area, a sailboat breezed along, heeled over to port. Freshening wind broke up the fog and raked the water into a chop. The boat danced through it. The way it breasted the water - rolling and pitching - made Crow think of laughter, as if the vessel was amused by the rough game.

Crow watched and longed.

Once she was just wood and metal and cord and cloth. I know every thought that went into every saw cut, every sail stitch, every drop of paint and varnish. She's doing what she was born to do. She's moving on.

Forcing laughter that sound pitifully false, he told Lila, "See how much better it is for everyone if I keep my distance? I can think all the wrong thoughts I want and no one suspects I'm deficient. As it is, you've already chewed me out twice today and we still have hours of daylight left."

"Oh, stop it. All we came here for was to offer you a place to stay while you recover."

The sailboat came about. From the west, an aircraft carrier materialized out of the remaining mist, an ominously silent city of gray steel. Her bow pushed aside the sea, a perfect bone-in-her-teeth. Astern a silver-and-blue trail spooled out from her huge screws. Crow seized the distraction, said, "Look at her. Makes that sailboat look like a fleck of paint."

"Don't sailboats have the right of way? Will they run into each other?"

Crow laughed. "Both captains know who has the right of way, just like they both know who gets squashed if push comes to shove."

Within seconds of his saying it, the smaller craft whipped off on another course.

Crow said, "Please don't think I'm turning down you all's offer because I don't appreciate it. It's just that... Look, it's a long way back to Lupine and you all just got here. Rest up, at least a while. That alder grove there's a good place to sit. Amber calls it her secret kingdom. Even named it: Latoat. When she's there she's the queen, but when she leaves, she leaves her crown behind so she can live with ordinary folks without embarrassing them. "

"I never named my secret place. What's she call it?" Lila was intrigued in spite of herself; she knew he wanted to distract her.

Ships. Right of way. Secret kingdoms.

He's just running away again.

Crow said, "The name means 'Looking At The Ocean And Thinking'. LATOAT. Clever kid. When I told her it wasn't much of a secret if people knew about it she gave me this 'dumb grownup' look and said, 'A place is just a little secret. What the name means is the real secret because it tells you what's inside the person who named it. That's a forever-friend secret. You only talk about it with them."

The hair on the back of Lila's neck stirred. Amber's innocence reminded her of the implied risk in the earlier voice, made her wonder if she was being warned about sharing too much.

She sternly reminded herself that there's a significant difference between coincidence and paranoia.

Silent now, they walked to a boulder flanked by tall trees. Amber's kingdom was v-shaped, the larger end facing the water. Lila and Crow settled down, backs against the rock. Lila watched Crow lose himself in contemplation of the sailboat.

Oddly, she was comfortable at the edge of his consciousness. She wondered if it was unfeminine to not mind being ignored, even for a few moments. She didn't know about that, but was certain that when he returned his attention to her it would be all the more focused.

Suddenly he was there again. His eyes locked on hers. His easy smile did nothing to quiet the quickened beat of her heart. He said, "I guess that's how it works - girls have hiding places and boys have forts."

It was mere conversation. Why did it make her wish she knew something - anything - about his boyhood? Where did he grow up? What turned him from flesh and bone to steel and stone?

Why did she care?

She straightened, drew back an inch, possibly two. She heard herself say, "We were talking about you coming back to Lupine with us."

He winced. "I meant it when I said I really appreciate you all. No one's ever done anything like that for me."

"No one? Ever?" She scoffed.

"Well, sure, people have helped me from time to time. Nothing like this."

"You've never let anyone get close enough. And you've never been in trouble with the law or anything. Have you?"

Crow watched quick worry tighten her features. He hurried to reassure her. "There was the thing with Major when he was a puppy." He paused, shot her a nervous glance. "I wasn't always a happy drunk when I was chasing the stuff."

She said, "Well, I'll bet you've met plenty of people who'd do exactly what the Pastor and I are doing. Look what Hector Garza did."

He had to clear his throat. "Great guy. Did he tell you he was a corpsman? They do crazy brave things. Tell them that and they just say it's their job."

"You're a lucky man." He looked surprised, and she went on, "You've known lots of great guys. Didn't you say you came to Lupine because some friend from back then liked the place?"

"Yeah, Smitty. City kid. From Newark, of all places, and the best fisherman I ever saw. You'd have liked him."

Once more he felt his mind disconnect.

Semper Fi, old buddy. Ride easy.

Lila. Paint-splotched clothes. Beat-up shoes. Do-rag losing the fight to restrain her hair. Cheekbones. Eyes. Graceful.

He rose abruptly.

Dizziness slammed him. He stumbled sideways, fighting for balance. Falling, falling, he crashed against a tree. Clawing hands barely kept him upright. Wrenching nausea threatened to embarrass him.

Lila was with him instantly. "Sit down." She barked it, simultaneously helping him slump to the ground, back against the trunk. She fumbled for her cell. "I'll call 911."

"No." He heard himself, metal on metal, "Stood up too fast. Dizzy. Give me a minute." He reached for her phone. She caught his hand and held it

He looked into her eyes and hoped she saw into his, into him. Still a wanderer, still alone. Not seeking solitude now. Aching for union.

Don't let me go.

Soft hands, as before. Strong now.

Hold me.

She said, "I'm calling for help." She flipped open the cell with her free hand, winced at the power of his grasp.

He scrabbled for a grip on the tree. The effort to rise pitched him forward on all fours.

She gave a small cry and knelt beside him. Her hand on his forehead steadied him. She told him, "It's the concussion. I'm calling."