Shades of Truth (12 page)

A
fter school, Dad screeched to a stop at the research station, trying his old tricks to cheer me up.

Andrew threw open the front door. “Where’s the fire? Everything okay?”

If only he knew how not okay everything was. I followed Dad and Andrew to the porch, thinking about how merciless Frankie, Nicole, and Tess had been today during Ruth’s presentation, and how terrible they were likely to be for mine. I carefully avoided thoughts of Vivian and Peter and what I would say to Andrew about Big Murphy.

As Helen joined us, a gunshot cracked.

Helen winced. “Even though we can’t stop the hunters, seeing us out in the forest reminds them of the rules. I still hate it. I hate every second of it.”

“I do too,” I said.

“You two stick close to the cabin,” Helen said to Andrew and me. “Keep the feeders full and don’t leave unless you see Patch. If you see her, follow her. Use the transponder if you have to. I don’t want her denning somewhere she shouldn’t. I know we shouldn’t interfere, but …”

She pulled her hat over her ears and turned to Dad. “Meredith is joining us today, which will be a big help.”

As they headed off into the woods, Andrew handed me a ten-gallon container of nuts and took one for himself. “You ready to fill the feeders?”

As I poured nuts into the first feeder, they tumbled out too quickly and some spilled on the ground.

“Don’t worry about picking them up. The bears will eat them off the ground. They’re not picky.” Andrew filled the next feeder.

I scanned the bushes, the empty yard. “All the bears are gone.”

“Most have chosen dens. Very few are still out, that’s all. We’re lucky to have only lost Humphrey.”

No one had talked about Humphrey since the day after he died. Hearing his name now, added to the weight of what I knew, what I couldn’t say, rested on my shoulders and pushed down, down. Maybe if I started by telling Andrew about Ruth, I could figure out a way to tell him about Peter too. Maybe all I needed was to start.

I poured seed into the last feeder and then set my empty container on the deck, sitting beside it. “Ruth and I had a fight.”

“Really?” Andrew squatted next to me. “After the meeting? What happened?”

“Actually before the meeting.” I looked up at the dark clouds that crowded the sky. “I’ve been trying to act like everything is okay, but Ruth lied to me, or at least she didn’t tell me the truth, and she let me take the blame at school for telling on Ty’s friends who got suspended —”

“Woah!” Andrew sat down. “Sounds like a long story.”

“She asked me to forgive her, and I’m trying, but …” I bit my lip. “I don’t trust her. How can I be friends with someone I don’t trust?”

“Everyone makes mistakes, Sadie. I tried to push you to report Jim, and that was wrong. You forgave me.” He leaned down so I couldn’t avoid his eyes. “Right?”

Now. Here was the moment again, the perfect moment to tell about Peter and Big Murphy, but when I opened my mouth, I couldn’t form the words. Was it because Peter was my friend? Because Vivian was my art teacher? Or simply because all this time I’d been wrong, blaming the wrong person? Was I just too embarrassed now to tell the truth?

Leaves rustled and Andrew squinted into the bushes.

“Sadie, that’s Patch and her cubs. We’ve got to go.”

He pulled me to my feet, and we followed the sound into the bushes. We tried to walk quietly, but hiding from Patch was impossible. Either she’d let us follow her or she wouldn’t.

“Here, bear,” Andrew called quietly into the forest. “Here, Patch. It’s just me. Me and Sadie.” He continued to call, in the singsong way I’d heard Helen call.

We entered a clearing, and there she was, silent, still, with her three cubs tucked close. She huffed and headed back into the brush. We crept after her.

The cubs bounded around Patch, rushing ahead and then circling back, slipping on wet logs and tumbling into the mud. Whenever they stumbled they stood, shook, and bounded after Patch again.

Finally, when we had come about two miles out from the cabin, and I thought my fingers might actually fall off from the cold, Patch stopped. She stood in front of an embankment held in place with a fallen log. A dinner-plate sized hole had been dug beneath the log and inside the hole a large space had been cleared. A mound of twigs and leaves and dirt stood just outside the opening.

“Her den,” Andrew said, his voice barely a whisper. “She’s showing us her den.”

The three cubs climbed inside, and finally, after giving us a long, long look, Patch squeezed inside as well. Little claws and big claws reached out to pull twigs and dirt back to cover the opening. In just minutes, the den was nearly invisible.

Rain began to fall.

“She’s going to be safe.” Andrew looked like he could hardly believe his own words. “This part of the forest is an empty lot that has been for sale for years. Out here, no one will disturb her.”

“She’s going to live,” I said.

“She is.” Andrew took my icy fingers and rubbed them between his palms. “Let’s go back before you freeze to death.”

He dropped one hand and texted his mom as we started walking:
Patch and cubs in den. Safe.

After the triumphant message we raced back through the forest, leaping over logs and charging through puddles. By the time we reached the cabin, rain had soaked through my jeans and boots. Even my socks were wet.

“Where’s the den?” Helen called from the porch. From the flush on her face, she must have rushed back as soon as she got the text.

“It’s on the open land, Mom,” Andrew gasped, trying to catch his breath. “That lot out by Old Man Mueller’s cabin that’s been for sale for years. She’s safe.”

I turned circles in the driveway, and Andrew caught my hands and spun me around. Dad grinned ear to ear.

“You’d better take Sadie home,” Helen said to Dad. “She’s soaked to the skin.”

Andrew hugged me tight and then helped me up into the Jeep.

Helen tossed me a towel. “Don’t catch cold, kiddo. You and Andrew can show me the den soon.”

On the ride home, thunder rumbled in the distance. My happiness started to fade as I wrestled with my growing list of problems — not telling Dad about Peter, not telling Andrew about Peter, what to do about Peter, Vivian, Ruth.

“Looks like a big storm,” Dad said, as the wind whipped tree branches into a frenzy. “We should stay in tonight. Hope you didn’t want to go to youth group.”

The clock read seven thirty. “No, it’s too late anyway.”
I didn’t say that I couldn’t face Ruth right now, with the worries piling one on top of the other in my mind. What I needed now was a friend I didn’t have to be careful with, a friend I could tell anything and who would help me sort out what to do.

One of Dad’s favorite songs started playing, and he turned it up. Now that Patch was in her den, I should be happy. So I sang along with Dad, but every word felt like another stone piling on top of the very heavy pile that threatened to bury me alive.

W
hen we arrived home, the house was dark. Mom must be upstairs, sleeping again. I opened the door and Higgins, who had been just inside, spinning circles, looked up at us. A pool formed under his feet and his ears drooped.

“Oh, Hig,” I said. “You’ve been waiting forever, I’m sure.”

The phone rang and Dad went to answer, so I clipped on Higgins’ leash and took him outside. After we came back, I cleaned up Higgins’ mess. Dad came out of the kitchen.

Something had happened, because Dad, the country rock star, had turned into Dad, the very worried man. Deep lines furrowed between his eyebrows.

“Can you check in on Mom?” he asked, already halfway out the front door. “I have to go back over to the DNR to talk to Meredith.”

“What about the storm?” I asked.

Instead of answering, he said, “Eat without me,” and shut the door behind him.

I peeked in on Mom, but she was fast asleep, so I made myself a peanut butter and Doritos sandwich and went up to my room
. I’m trying Pips
,
I really am.

But even though I was running out of reasons, and even though the reasons were helping less and less, I still needed to look at the scrapbook.

A picture of us smiling, both missing a front tooth. Us, miserable, covered in chicken pox, on side-by-side couches. Us, with tear-stained faces and terrible too-short haircuts.

“But not anymore, Pips,” I whispered as I closed the book. “You don’t have a huge secret you’re keeping from everyone you know. You don’t have all these questions with no answers.”

Pippa’s emailed answers seemed just as easy as they’d ever been, while my questions loomed larger and more difficult than ever. She was so far away — not because she was in California, but because she knew a me that didn’t exist anymore. The me who knew what was right and what was wrong. The me who knew what I believed.

My sketchbook was almost full now. I’d drawn as many examples of the word alive as I could. Andrew laughing as
he held Higgins up to the telescope. Ruth watching stars with Cameron. Vivan lifting out of her seat at Compline. Dad scambling eggs. Mom in an organizing frenzy. Higgins chasing his tail. Helen slipping the collar over April’s neck. Peter presenting me Double Decker Chocolate on a Cloud. How many of these moments were real, though? Which of them could I trust? All around the edges of the pages, sketches of eyes filled the blank space. Ruth’s eyes, Frankie’s eyes, Vivian’s eyes, Peter’s eyes, Helen’s eyes, Andrew’s eyes. Only the last page was empty.

I took out my pencils. Rain pounded on the roof, and I tried not to think about Dad driving through the storm.

I shaded my page with graphite, and then let a shape take form on the page. I was almost finished with both eyes before I realized I was drawing Peter. Not the Peter who shot Big Murphy — the Peter who had lied to me — but the Peter before that, my friend who I trusted. As I shaped and shaded, I realized the two sides of his face weren’t symmetrical. One eye stared up at me, hard, cold, from behind a deep shadow, and the other was lighter, warmer.

Finally, Dad’s Jeep pulled in. I closed my book and crept toward bed, hoping he’d think I was asleep.

He knocked on my door. “Sadie, you awake?”

I rolled over, turning my back to the door, willing him to go away even as he tiptoed into my room and sat down beside me on the bed.

“Sadie, we need to talk.” Dad rubbed my shoulder, as though to wake me, until I turned to face him. “Somehow
Jim Paulson heard that I planned to accuse him of shooting Big Murphy. Maybe you said something at school, or I don’t know, Sadie. The point is, Jim stormed into Meredith’s office and accused me of spreading lies about him, and then made everything worse by claiming I’ve been sneaking up behind him when he’s closing in for a kill, and shooting into the air to startle his bear. He filed an official report against me for interfering with his hunting.”

Even though I wasn’t really asleep, I still wasn’t following this story. “But you haven’t interfered with his hunting.”

“No, but I was still called to a hearing tomorrow. It’s his word against mine. Sadie,” Dad shook his head, “you finally get your chance to share the evidence against Jim. If we prove he did break the law, hopefully the DNR will drop the case against me.”

I sat up, realizing what Dad was asking. “You aren’t sure Jim shot Big Murphy.”

“But I’m pretty sure, Sadie, and you are too. I can’t prove it, but if you testify with me we can make a good case.”

I lay back down and pulled the covers to my chin. “I can’t testify with you, Dad.”

Dad laughed. “Sadie, if I had a nickel for every time you’ve begged me to turn Jim in, I’d be rich. What do you mean you can’t testify?”

“I can’t, Dad. I just can’t.”

“What is it, school? You don’t want the kids at school to be mad?”

“No, Dad.”

“Sadie,” Dad said. “If I get convicted of interfering with hunting, I’ll get fired. I’ll get fined. If they decide to make an example of me, I might even go to jail for a few months. This trial is bigger than whether or not you’re popular at school.”

The word
popular
prickled along my spine. My sandwich turned to glue in my stomach. I was afraid if I opened my mouth, even to breathe, I’d let it all go. Everything would tumble out of me, word after word after word, and even when the sun came up I’d still be spewing dark anger into the space between us.

“Sadie?”

I swallowed and then carefully strung my words together. “I can’t testify.”

The words fell like stones into the darkness and anger burned in my throat, ready to pour out.

Dad’s voice was steely. “Sadie, you will testify. Get some sleep. The hearing is tomorrow.”

He left the room, his legs stiff and mechanical, as though he’d changed from a man into a robot while he sat on my bed. I’d done that. I’d changed him from my soft, loving Dad into something less, something hard and metallic.

His steps echoed down the hall, and he opened the door to their bedroom. As the door shut, I heard Mom’s raised voice, Dad’s voice answering. I couldn’t make out the words, but it didn’t matter what they said. If Mom worked herself up, if Dad let her, she’d never get any better.

Shadow monsters reached down to strangle me. My skin burned like I was on fire.

“I can’t do this,” Mom said, her voice even louder. Loud enough to hear. I didn’t want to be part of their argument. I just wanted out.

I didn’t wait to hear more. I clipped a leash onto Higgins and ran down the stairs, out the front door, and into the storm. Within minutes my clothes were soaked, and I was grateful for the coolness against my skin. Without the rain, I might burn up into a pile of ashes. Wind roared in my ears, but still I heard whimpering. I picked up Higgins. He licked my face, licked away my tears. I was the one whimpering, not him.

All around me blinding rain fell, making the dark night even darker. Higgins snuggled close to my neck. Lightning lit up the trees and thunder clapped seconds later. I turned, ready to head home, but Mom’s voice, her breaking voice, echoed again and again in my ears. I didn’t want to go home. I couldn’t stand home.

So I turned toward town and ran through the storm, concentrating on keeping Higgins warm. Where would we find a shelter? Who could we ask for help? I traveled on, step after step, mile after mile. I couldn’t hear a sound over the wailing wind.

Finally, when I stumbled onto Main Street, lightning flashed again, revealing the buildings dark and closed tight. Higgins shivered, and when I pulled him closer I could tell his paws and ears had lost all warmth. I still felt white-hot, but the tip of my nose was numb, and water dripped from my drenched hair. I tried the library door. Locked.

Vivian had said the Catholic church never locked its doors. They let people in anytime, to sit in the quiet and be still. I splashed through puddles down the block and climbed the church steps. The door creaked open when I pulled the iron ring. I sloshed inside and took off my sweatshirt to wring it out. Higgins ran circles around my feet, shaking himself off.

When I closed the doors, they muffled the howling wind. Still, my ears rang and I realized I was shivering. I hugged Higgins tight — we both needed to dry off.

I found the women’s restroom. Just as I’d hoped, they had a hot air dryer for wet hands. I held my sweatshirt under the air and pressed the button again and again. I took off my wet T-shirt and pulled on the newly dried sweatshirt. Then I pulled off my boots, my socks, and my jeans, and held them under the dryer. The jeans took forever. Finally, when most of the dampness was gone, I slipped them back on and dried my hair. The sanctuary was still and dark, but a few candles flickered on the altar at the front of the church. The air had the same waxy smell touched with spicy incense it had when Peter, Vivian, and I had come to Compline. I chose a pew far from where Vivian and I had sat together and curled up, pulling Higgins close.

All through the drying, my question had grown until it felt as though it would explode out of me. Why was there no one I could ask for help? Why was I here, in the Catholic church in the middle of the night, in the middle of a thunder storm, alone with my shivering puppy? Now, as I laid my
head down on the hard wood in the silent church, I finally realized the truth.

I was alone because I didn’t trust anyone. Andrew had said:
Everyone makes mistakes
. My own mistakes seemed the biggest of all. I stood and carried Higgins to the pew in front of the altar and watched the candlelight flicker.

God?
I whispered.
I can’t do this.
In my words, I heard the echo of Mom’s voice, but now, in this quiet room, with the wind howling outside, the memory didn’t sting. Mom couldn’t make it through sickness on her own. Dad couldn’t mediate on his own. Ruth couldn’t stand up to Tess, Nicole, and Frankie on her own. Maybe even Peter, with all of his mistakes, had reasons he couldn’t admit his fault on his own.

God
,
please help me.

Warmth spread across my shoulders and down my back. I realized just how tight my muscles had been as my body relaxed. My mind settled too, my worries coming to rest like flakes in a snowglobe, allowing me to see clearly.

I would tell the truth, not so much about who had done what — though I would tell that too. But I would tell the people I loved and the people who loved me how alone I felt. How not alive. I would tell the truth because it was the right thing to do.

As the candle finally flickered out, I curled up on the pew, holding Higgins close, feeling something larger, something I couldn’t explain, wrap warm arms around us both.

Thank you
.