River's End (9781426761140) (15 page)

Sorry,
Sarah

Anna's tears dropped onto the white paper, blurring the blue ink. She carefully refolded the page and was just slipping it back into the envelope when she heard footsteps approaching.

“Hello down there?” called a man's voice.

She looked up to see a slightly grizzled-looking man coming her way. With shaggy gray hair and an unshaved chin, he looked a bit scary, but then he waved. “Is that you, Anna Larson?”

She waved and nodded. “Yes. I was just getting ready to tow the boat home.”

He came down to the dock, peering curiously at her. “Are you crying?”

She brushed her wet cheek with the back of her hand and nodded. “I was just reading a note my granddaughter left behind.”

“Kids,” he said with exasperation. “They can break your heart.”

She studied his face, seeing the sadness there. “Do you have children, Johnny? Grandchildren?”

He shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “I did.”

She tilted her head to one side. “You did?”

“Just one . . . a son. We didn't think we'd have any kids, but then after seven years, we got John Junior. JJ for short. What a kid. You should've seen him throw a football.” He ran his fingers through his messy hair. “Chip off the old block.”

“Oh . . .” She waited, fearing the worst.

“JJ would've turned thirty next year.”

Anna nodded. “He passed on?”

“Yeah.” Johnny looked up at the sky.

“I'm sorry.”

“Me too.”

Anna stood, and with the letter in one hand, she held to the edge of the skiff and got out onto the dock then put a hand on Johnny's shoulder. “I can imagine how much you must miss him.”

He nodded, pressing his lips together.

Now she told him about how they'd spent the last two years thinking that they'd lost Sarah, too. “It felt as if she'd died,” she said, “and then she came back to us.”

“Anyway, you know she's alive.”

“Yes . . . but now she's gone again.”

“At least it's not your fault.”

Anna wasn't sure what he meant . . . or if he was even right.

“You see JJ went through some of the stuff a lot of the kids went through in the sixties—all that antiestablishment crap. We were down in California, the Bay Area, and I'm sure he did some experimenting with drugs—turning on and tuning out or whatever it was kids were doing. Probably still are.”

“Was that how he died?”

Johnny shook his head. “I think it would've been easier if that was the way it happened.”

“Oh . . .” Anna wasn't sure whether she should press him or not. Sometimes she would have sessions like this with guests, but many of them expected this sort of thing there at the inn. This was Johnny's place.

“JJ wanted to dodge the draft. He wanted money to go up to Canada. I told him to forget it. I told him to man up and face his responsibilities and went on about how I'd fought in the Pacific and how freedom wasn't really free. You know the drill.” Johnny rubbed his hand over his eyes, and Anna could tell he was trying to hide his tears. “For some crazy reason, JJ listened to me—next thing we knew he was on his way to Vietnam.”

“Did he die there?”

He nodded. “Didn't even last three months. Came home in a wooden box. My wife blamed me for it, and our marriage fell apart. But she's right. It was my fault. I should've let him run. At least he'd be here now.”

“Oh, Johnny . . .” She sighed. “It's not your fault. You were only trying to get him to do the right thing . . . to obey the law. You didn't know how it would turn out.”

His tears were flowing freely now. “I never dreamed he wouldn't make it back,” he said, “after all I went through in the Pacific, I was certain JJ would do the same, a chip off the old block.”

She nodded. “I'm sure JJ knew you loved him, Johnny. And in the end, he made his own decision to go and serve. He could've gone to Canada even if you hadn't helped him. You must know that.”

He tapped the side of his head. “I know it up here.” Now he tapped his chest. “But sometimes it doesn't feel like it in here.”

“I can understand that.” Now she told him about Sarah's letter. “Something she said makes me feel as if I'm to blame. I told her something—something she misunderstood. I told her that not forgiving someone was like poison. I meant it was poisoning her, but she thought I was saying she was like poison to the people around her. That's not what I meant. Not at all.” Now Anna was crying again, too.

To her surprise, Johnny reached out and hugged her. For a long moment, they just stood there crying together, and finally, they both stepped back as if embarrassed. Anna knew that it had been nothing more than two hurting people trying to comfort each other, something she often did at the inn. But for Johnny's sake, she wanted to make it clear.

“Please, come and visit us at the inn,” she told him. “My husband, Clark, is a veteran, too, and I have a feeling that you and he would have some stories to exchange, Johnny.”

He nodded. “Maybe I'll do that.”

So she told them about the bonfires they had on Saturday nights and how sometimes there was music and storytelling.
“And Clark likes to go deep-sea fishing when it's not too busy at the inn,” she said as she untied her boat and hopped in. “Maybe you'd like to go sometime.”

He made what seemed a hopeful smile. “Maybe I was wrong. I guess there are still some good people on the river, Anna.”

She smiled back. “Yes. You can be sure of it.”

Her trip downriver was one of mixed emotions. Thankful that she'd managed to make a connection with an old acquaintance but saddened at Johnny's heartache and deep loneliness. And although she appreciated Sarah's attempt to communicate and apologize in the letter, Anna couldn't help but grieve over Sarah's words. She felt as if she'd failed her granddaughter.

As Anna slowed down for the dock, she reminded herself of what she'd just told Johnny. Just like with JJ, Sarah had made her own decision. No one had forced Sarah to run away. Sarah had to know, even if it was deep down, that Anna still loved her . . . would always love her. Anna knew that blaming herself for Sarah's bad choices wouldn't help anyone. The best thing Anna could do was to pray for her . . . and perhaps contact Jim Viceroy.

Clark met her on the dock, helping her to tie off and moving the skiff out of the way. “I thought I was going to take care of that,” he said as he helped her out of the boat.

“You looked so peaceful, sleeping so soundly. I thought you probably needed your rest.” She patted his cheek. “And as it turned out, I think it's good that I went.”

As they walked to the main dining room for breakfast, she told him about her unexpected visit with Johnny Johnson. “He's a sad, lonely man.”

“Poor guy.”

She smiled at Clark. “I invited him to come visit us. I told him that maybe you guys could swap war stories.” As they
went into the dining room, she remembered the letter still in her jacket pocket. Because it had been written to her, she wasn't sure how much of it she planned to share. Maybe none of it for now.

After breakfast, Anna looked up the Viceroys in the phone book and, finding only one listing, dialed the number and asked for Jim. “Who is this?” a woman's voice demanded. So Anna identified herself, confessing that Bobby Greeley had told her about Jim. “Bobby said that Jim might've lived at the same commune where my granddaughter stayed for a while.”

“Your granddaughter was in that horrible place?” Mrs. Viceroy sounded shocked.

“Well, I'm not positive, but I think so.”

“Good grief, it was bad enough having a son stay in a place like that, I can't imagine how I'd feel if it was a girl. How old is she anyway?”

“She just turned eighteen. But she'd been gone for two years.”

“You mean she was there as a juvenile?”

Now Anna explained how Sarah had run away from home. “We searched and searched for her but never found her.”

“Someone should press charges against that place,” Mrs. Viceroy said bitterly. “The way they mess with people's minds is despicable.”

“I'm sure I agree with you.” Anna twisted the cord in her fingers. “So, is Jim there? Is it possible to talk to him?”

“Oh, I thought I already told you. No, Jim's not here. He took off a couple of weeks ago. I have no idea where he's off to this time. I just hope it's not back to that place. He did mention wanting to go work on a crabbing boat in Alaska.” She let out a loud sigh. “Dangerous work, I'll admit. But it seems a sight
better than that awful commune. You don't think your granddaughter went back there, do you?”

“I'm not sure, but I'm afraid she might've. Do you happen to know where it's located?”

“Not exactly. But somewhere near Medford. Out on a farm. I think Jim said it was west of Medford. Or maybe I just imagined that part.”

Anna thanked her for her help, giving her their phone number in case she heard from Jim.

“I'm real sorry for you,” Mrs. Viceroy said finally, “I wouldn't want any girl of mine—or a boy for that matter—stuck in that place.”

Anna felt worse than ever when she hung up. Mrs. Viceroy seemed to confirm all of Anna's worst fears about that commune. But knowing its general location was something of a comfort.

“Good news,” Lauren said as she came into the office where Anna had used the phone.

“About Sarah?” Anna asked hopefully.

Lauren's smile faded. “No . . . about some extra help around here. A couple of kids, friends of Bobby Greeley, just pulled up to the dock. Mind if I bring them up here to do applications and interviews?”

“Not at all.” Anna started to leave then stopped. “By the way, I've discovered that the commune Sarah lived at is near Medford.”

Lauren nodded. “Do you have an exact location?”

“No, but I plan to do some more calling. I'll use the house phone.”

“If you find the place, I could go down there and try to get her to come home,” Lauren offered. “It seems the least I can do.”

Anna just nodded. “Let's cross that bridge when we come to it.” But as Anna headed for the other phone, she knew that it would not be wise to include Lauren in this. If Sarah saw Lauren coming for her, she'd probably take off running in the opposite direction. For this to work, it would have to be done carefully . . . and prayerfully.

Anna called the Medford police first. She hoped they might have concern about some kind of criminal element and want to go have a look at the commune. But when she couldn't really give them specifics, they suggested she call city hall and speak to someone there. After several calls, she finally managed to get someone to give her some more specific directions to the commune. She wrote everything down then went off to search for Clark.

“I'm going down to get the boys now,” Lauren told Anna as they met on the stairs. “I told them to look around a bit, you know, to get the feel of the place and see if they really want to work here. But maybe I should get on with the interviews.” She looked uncertain. “And if they seem like good kids . . . do you think I should just go ahead and hire them today?”

“I trust your judgment,” Anna told her. It was something she used to say to Lauren a lot, back when she first started working at the inn, but she suspected Lauren might need it even more than ever today.

“Thanks, Mom. I appreciate that.”

“You know as well as anyone that we need help. And you're a good judge of character.” Anna glanced at the clock. “And if you get moving, they might even be able to help with lunch.”

Lauren looked hopeful. “Wouldn't that be something?”

Anna didn't want to admit that she had ulterior motives or that having a couple extra workers would come in especially handy right now. She didn't even want Lauren to know what she was up to. Perhaps Clark could tell her . . . later. She found him down by the bathhouse, and as he hosed off the nearby patio, she explained what she'd discovered. “I want to go there,” she said eagerly. “I think I can talk Sarah into coming home with me.”

He frowned and turned off the hose nozzle. “I want Sarah to come home as much as you, but I don't want you going there by yourself.”

“But you need to stay here to help,” she told him. “And there's your mom. You can't just take off while she's still in the hospital.”

“That's true.” He coiled the hose, setting it off to one side. “Maybe you should take Lauren with you.”

“I can't do that, Clark. She'll be needed more than ever here.”

He rubbed his chin with a furrowed brow. “I don't want you going alone, Anna.”

“I knew you'd say that. But I honestly think I'll have more success with Sarah if I go alone. I think she'll listen to me.”

“But what about the people running the place? They might try to make trouble for—”

“Clark,” she said slowly. “I will be very cautious. If anything seems amiss about any of this, I won't even go in. And I have no problem calling the police or someone from the city for help.” She sighed. “I think I've spoken to about half of them already today. Some were actually helpful.”

He put his hands on her cheeks, looking intently into her eyes. “It's just that if anything happened to you—I don't know what I'd do. I'm sure I'd do something completely crazy.”

She forced a laugh. “Oh, Clark, really. What do you think they'd do? Take an old woman like me captive? And, even if they did, I expect you'd be there with a posse to rescue me.”

He nodded. “You can count on that.”

“I looked at a map, and I figure if I take off pretty soon, I should make Medford by this afternoon. I'll try to go directly to the commune, but if I have a problem getting Sarah to leave with me, I might spend a night in a hotel.”