Shades of Truth (7 page)

W
hen I got home from school on Monday, Mom had completely reorganized the kitchen and started on dinner. Chicken breasts defrosted on the counter while she chopped up broccoli.

“Should you slow down, Mom?” I asked. “You’ve been working non-stop since Saturday.”

“Are you offering to help?” She handed me a bag of chocolate chips. “Because the cookie dough in the refrigerator is begging for chocolate chips.”

“Mom …”

“Sadie …” Her voice was laced with warning.

I sighed and took the cookie dough out of the refrigerator. Just because Mom didn’t want me to worry didn’t mean I could automatically switch off my feelings.

“How was school today?” Mom doused the chicken with
marinara sauce, sprinkled the red mound with shaved parmesan cheese, shook various spices on top, and put the pan into the oven.

Ruth and I sat together at lunch and suffered through a strained conversation about the word study project, but all the topics that really mattered were off limits. I couldn’t see how we could continue being friends without really talking.

Mom still waited for an answer, so I said, “Umm … We started a word study project today. I have to find quotes and stories about the word
alive
.”

Ms. Barton had talked me out of my other choices, saying, “Choose a word that you believe in, Sadie, one that inspires you.”

Dad pulled up as Mom drained the broccoli, but he still hadn’t come inside when I finished setting the table. Something was odd.

I called out the front door, “Dinner’s ready.”

Dad came in with the tight smile he sometimes got when he was very mad but trying not to show it. More importantly, his eye was ringed with black and purple.

“Dad, what happened?”

“What?” Mom came out of the kitchen with the casserole dish of chicken. “Matthew, what happened to your eye?”

Dad sat at the table. “It’s dinner time. Let’s eat.”

Mom set the dish down and sat beside Dad. “Matthew, you look like you’ve been in a schoolyard brawl. Sadie and I can’t just eat and ignore your eye. Do you need ice?”

Dad took a sip of water and set his glass down very slowly.

I stood at the end of the table and tried not to look at Dad’s swollen eye. Black eyes were for punk kids, for mobsters and professional boxers, but not for Dad.

“Sadie, sit down.” Dad dished chicken onto each of our plates. “Chicken parmigiana — my favorite.”

I sat, but didn’t touch my food.

Dad took another bite, but neither Mom nor I moved. Finally, he said, “The story of my eye isn’t dinner conversation, Cindy. Can I tell you later?”

“You appear to be the only one who can eat right now,” Mom said.

Dad set down his knife and fork. “Mack Jefferson shot his bear today near the research center.”

My stomach dropped. Not Patch, please not Patch. And not Big Murphy. Tears spilled down my cheeks. How could the hunters do it? How could they shoot our bears?

“Helen and I helped him pull the bear out from the bush. We needed to know … We were hoping …” His voice cracked.

“It was Humphrey,” he said finally. “Helen’s bear.”

“It’s not fair!” I pushed my chair back, almost knocking Dad over. “They’re
murderers
.”

“Sadie, they’re hunters. We’re not here to stop that,” Mom said.

“But I can’t believe Dad just lets them —”

Mom’s look stopped me. Whatever I thought, she expected me to keep it to myself.

“How did you get your black eye?” Mom took a bite of
chicken and tried too hard to look casual, the same expression she used when she asked me about an unexpectedly low grade.

Dad ran his fingers through his hair. “Mack had a bunch of hunter friends with him. Jim Paulson, for one. When we pulled out Humphrey, Helen cried, and of course Jim started in on her. He was merciless. I lost my temper. And then Helen lost her temper and shoved Jim. He shoved her back, so I got between them, and he punched me. It got out of hand really quickly.”

“Matthew, how is this mediating? First, you buy a gun, which I’ve never wanted in my house. Then, you go out hunting, and now you’re punching hunters? This town is changing you.”

“I’m not changing, Cindy. I just —”

They both looked over at me, as though they had suddenly remembered I was at the table. I listened to the silence grow and deepen until I thought I might disappear into it. I shoved away from the table and ran upstairs to my bedroom, slamming my door behind me.

I leaned against my door, my parents’ words still echoing in my ears. Sick to my stomach, I crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. I rolled onto one side and the other. I fluffed my pillows. I closed my eyes and counted to fifty, hoping I might fall asleep. I listened to Mom and Dad come upstairs, knock softly on my door, and discuss whether to let me be or come inside. I held my breath until Dad suggested they talk to me tomorrow, until I heard the
soft thump of their bedroom door closing. Still, as the quiet settled again, Dad’s bruised face swam in front of my eyes. Finally, I threw off my covers. Absolutely, positively time for reason seven.

Pips and I had needed peanut butter and Doritos sandwiches quite a few times. The first time was when my fairy costume had been lost in the mail, the one Pippa and I had carefully planned and both ordered so we’d match. So she had hers in time for Halloween, and I didn’t. I’d been in tears, so Mom had turned over the kitchen before taking us trick-or-treating. “We’ll make any dinner you want,” she’d said. We’d put together the most random combination we could think of — PB and D — and were shocked, and overtaken with giggles, when it turned out to be delicious.

In the picture, Pippa laughed in her Doritos-stained purple fairy dress, and I lay on the floor, breathless with laughter, in my pink tutu with paper fairy wings. All around us, boxes and bags of every ingredient possible crowded the counters. Other photos crammed the pages. Pips and me in front of the soggy refrigerator boxes that had been our fort until her sister turned the hose on them. Pips and me waiting on the bleachers after losing a soccer championship in overtime when a player on our team accidentally kicked the ball into our goal.

My stomach growled. I closed the book and climbed out of bed.

“Well, Pips, I’ll try it. I didn’t eat dinner tonight anyway.”

Thankfully, we had a fresh bag of Doritos and my favorite peanut butter — Skippy, extra crunchy. I made the sandwich and went to the darkened living room to sit by the fireplace. I wasn’t allowed to start a fire and figured now wasn’t the time to test the rule.

The sandwich tasted like home, but eating it wasn’t the same without Pippa. The best part was stacking too many Doritos on top and trying to open our mouths wide enough to take a bite. If our sandwiches fit too easily, we’d make it harder and harder until we made such ridiculous faces we couldn’t help but laugh.

“I miss you, Pips,” I whispered into the darkness.

I put my dish in the sink and went back upstairs.

On my bedside table I kept a picture of Mom and Dad, arms linked, laughing in front of Yosemite Falls. Mom said Owl Creek was changing Dad, but I didn’t want him to change. I wanted him to stay Dad, my laughing, silly Dad who could fix anything.

I brought my drawing pencils and pad back to bed and used the picture to draw Dad’s face. I made a shaded box like Vivian had shown me and used my pencils and erasers to draw and redraw until I was satisfied with the shape of his eyes, the curve of his eyebrows, the exact shape of his chin. I began to shade his eye.

So who was Dad changing into? What really happened
with Jim and Mack? Dad stepped between Jim and Helen and got punched — or had he been part of it? Had he shoved or hit someone? What happened after Jim punched him? Had Dad just walked away?

Even worse than the questions about Dad, I realized I didn’t know what I would have wanted him to do. So who did that make me? I didn’t know Humphrey, but Helen had known him. She’d loved him. What gave the hunters the right to take his life? I wanted to punch Mack in the face. Punch Jim. Punch Frankie and Ty and all the kids at school. My word study word was
alive
. What a joke.

Doug said God connected with us in tiny, beautiful moments. But what about these ugly things? What about black eyes and punching and dead bears? Was God there too? And if he was here, right now, what did he think of me and my terrible thoughts?

I scribbled out my drawing and turned to the next page. The trouble was with the eyes. Dad’s real eyes were always full of weather. Either they sparkled with mischief or brooded with frustration, but Dad could never keep emotion out of his eyes. These eyes were the shape and size of Dad’s eyes, but they didn’t have any life.

Another page. And another page. It didn’t matter because I couldn’t sleep. I’d draw until I knew every inch and shadow of Dad’s face. Maybe in the meantime I’d learn who he really was.

“S
adie.” Dad sat on the bed beside me. “Wake up, Sades. Want to take the day off from school and come to the research cabin?”

I opened my eyes. It was still dark. I’d probably slept only two hours.

Take the day off school? Dad must feel really bad about last night. I shook off my grogginess and tried to figure out what day it was. Tuesday. Yesterday, school had been awful, as usual, so I didn’t mind missing more of the same today. If I went to the station, I’d see bears, alive and well, maybe Patch and her cubs, or even Big Murphy. But what if I dissolved into tears over Humphrey the minute I saw a bear? My grief certainly wouldn’t help Helen or Andrew. Andrew. In all of my worry about Mom and Dad and Humphrey
and Helen, Andrew hadn’t crossed my mind. He probably needed a friend right now.

“Sure, I’ll go.”

The bruise around Dad’s eye had green edges. “How long does it take you to get ready nowadays? Used to be you could be out of bed and ready in ten minutes. Remember that?”

For about a month when I was seven, I tried to prove I could read in bed until just before we had to go. Dad had come into my room with the timer morning after morning. The faster I went, the more reading time I’d earn.

“Oh, I can still get ready in ten minutes.” I threw off my covers. “Just wait.”

He backed up into the hall, smiling. Like always, he was trying to cheer me up, but this time, I wished he would just tell me what was really going on. Was he okay? Was Mom okay?

Dad checked his watch. “It’s six forty-five. I’ll give you twelve.”

When I threw open my closet, I regretted my answer. I wasn’t seven anymore, and I wasn’t dressing to play in my backyard. I was on my way to see Andrew. Still, a deal was a deal. I tossed jeans and T-shirts across the room, finally deciding on my Yellowstone National Park T-shirt with rhinestones across the front. I dashed into the bathroom, splashed around, and walked into the kitchen at six fifty-five.

“Hey, you did it, with your teeth brushed and all. Nice!” Dad handed me a paper towel with a stack of buttered toast on top, and we hurried out to the Jeep.

As I buckled myself in, I tried not to look at Dad, because even though I had drawn him over and over last night, this morning he looked even more like a stranger.

“We’re going to radio-collar April today,” Dad said while munching his second slice of toast. “She’s one of the other female bears Helen has been watching.”

“Can you do that? Isn’t that the deal with the hunters — they won’t shoot radio-collared bears, and Helen won’t collar anyone new?”

“That’s why I’m going with her today. She’ll need help if anyone confronts her.”

I had to bite my tongue before I asked,
Are you planning on another fistfight?

Dad continued, “I think, and Meredith agrees, that Helen has a good argument for collaring April. After Jim’s threats toward Patch, Helen needs a back-up female bear with cubs to research. April will have cubs next year, and Helen can focus on her if anything happens to Patch.”

The orange sunrise glow spread into the dark sky. “You can’t let Jim hurt Patch.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t do much to stop him, Sades.”

I stared at the toast, completely unable to eat. “What does Meredith say? She’s a ranger. Can’t she protect radio-collared bears? Plus, Patch has cubs. It’s illegal to shoot a bear with cubs, isn’t it?”

“Meredith has to answer to the DNR, and the DNR will probably turn their heads if Patch is killed. Jim has reported Patch as a problem bear, and if she survives this hunting season
they may remove her from the wild anyway. There will be a lot less red tape if Jim accidentally shoots her.”

“But it won’t be an accident!”

Dad pulled into Helen’s driveway. “Jim will say it was and the DNR won’t question him. It’s awful, but that’s how it is.”

“So, that’s it? You and Meredith and the entire DNR will turn your backs and let Jim kill Patch?”

“Sades, I’m just helping Helen protect April.”

“You should be protecting Patch!” I almost dropped the last three pieces of toast in frustration.

“Sadie, eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” I handed him another piece as we pulled up to the cabin. The yard was empty of bears.

“I’ll eat this one.” He jumped down from the Jeep. “But the last two are yours. Remember, Sades, the bears aren’t pets. They’re wild animals.”

Helen walked onto the porch in time to hear Dad’s last comment. Her eyes were red and puffy. Still, she gave me her usual smile. “Your dad makes it sound easy. But I happen to know he’s desperately in love with Big Murphy. Isn’t that so?”

A few seconds later, Andrew rounded the corner, looking tired, but better than I had expected. He carried his usual bag. “Hey, Sadie. No school today?”

Dad swatted a mosquito. “I gave her a pass.”

“Did you come to take the puppy home?” Andrew asked.

I looked from Dad to Andrew, and back to Dad again.

Dad laughed. “Sadie was so busy lecturing me about radio collars, I didn’t have time to ask her.”

“As you can see, the bears are keeping their distance,” Helen said. “Ever since we found a stray puppy last Saturday and brought him home.”

“Do you want to take him to your house?” Andrew asked.

“What about Mom?” I didn’t want to get too excited.

“She’ll say puppies are messy and lots of work,” Dad said. “And she’ll love him.”

Andrew grabbed my hand, and suddenly my fingers felt awkward and icy and limp. Before I could figure out what to do, he pulled me toward the cabin. “Come on!”

When he opened the door, a black puppy blinked sleepily, tumbled off the pile of towels he’d been napping on, sat up, and thumped his tail on the floor. When I knelt down to pet his ears, he licked my arms and hands and face.

“We think he’s all Lab,” Andrew said. “We posted signs, but no one has called to claim him. Check this out.” Andrew pulled a dog treat out of his pocket. “Sit!”

The puppy sat and thumped his tail on the floor again. Andrew gave him the treat.

More than anything, I wanted to take this puppy home. I needed someone in my life I could count on. “And I can keep him?” He wriggled onto his tummy, and I scratched him under his chin.

“It sounds like it. Any ideas for a name?” Andrew asked.

“You haven’t named him yet?” What
would
I name him?

Dad called in through the open window, “We’re heading
out now. Keep a close watch around the cabin for April. If you see her, give us a call.”

“Can’t we come with you?” I asked.

“The forest is too dangerous with hunters out there shooting.”

But not too dangerous for Dad and Helen. Still, it was hard to be mad, with the puppy biting my shoelaces. I picked him up and followed Andrew outside. We sat on the porch steps while they drove away. A rifle cracked deep in the forest and I shivered.

We soon heard a short puff of air. “I wonder who that is?”

We didn’t have to wonder long. Big Murphy crashed out of the foliage and headed straight for the window box.

“He’s been here one other time this week,” Andrew said. “Looks like his leg is healing nicely.”

Big Murphy stood steadily on all four legs, ignoring us as he ate.

“He doesn’t mind the puppy,” I said, as the puppy wriggled and whined.

“That puppy is too brave for his own good.” Andrew laughed as Big Murphy lifted his head, huffed, and snuffled his nose back into the seeds. “Want a Sink-the-Boat rematch?”

We wrestled the puppy into his collar and snapped on a leash. On the way down to the river, he weaved in and out between our legs and tangled himself until he was completely stuck.

“He hasn’t figured out his leash yet.” Andrew carried the puppy the rest of the way to the river.

I tossed a stick into the water and then a rock, which made a good, solid thunk.

“No fair. I’ve got this monster to deal with.” Andrew set the puppy down, but kept hold of the leash.

We launched rocks into the river, hitting the stick until it finally sank.

I sat on a wide rock and pulled the puppy into my lap. “I don’t want them to collar April. It’s like giving up on Patch.”

Andrew threw another stick.

I rolled a rock around in my palm, but couldn’t keep my mind off Jim and Big Murphy. “When Big Murphy was shot, we saw someone drive away on an ATV exactly like Jim Paulson’s. Dad won’t report him because he’s not sure.”

Andrew pitched a rock at the stick. “But you’re sure.”

“Well, yeah. Who else would do it?”

“Then you have to tell.” Andrew sat beside me. “You could save Patch’s life.”

“Me? But I meant Dad —”

“He won’t tell, Sadie. You know he won’t.” Andrew leaned forward, his eyes intense. “But you can do it. And you should do it as soon as you can.”

I’d pictured Andrew helping me convince Dad to tell, not throwing all the responsibility back on me. How could I tell when Dad wouldn’t?

“Sadie, Jim’s hunting license would be taken away. Maybe forever, if they can prove he shot Murph out of hunting season. Don’t you want that?”

“Yes, I —”

Leaves moved to our left and caused us to come to a complete stop. I scooped up the puppy as a medium-sized black bear loped up the hill.

“That’s April. Let’s follow her.” Andrew took out his phone and texted his mom.

We followed April as closely as we could without spooking her, heading back down the path toward the research facility. Andrew and I stayed back, keeping the puppy as quiet as possible as April ate at the window box feeder. When Helen and Dad returned, Helen pulled on her gloves, slipped the collar over her wrist, took a handful of seeds, and slowly approached April.

While April nuzzled the food in Helen’s glove, Helen used her free hand to slip the collar over April’s neck and tighten the slack. April shook her head and pawed at the collar. Helen backed away.

“That was so fast. Will the collar bother her?” I asked.

“Not after a while.” Helen took off her gloves, as April turned back to the feeder.

I carried the puppy to the Jeep.

“Don’t forget, Sadie. As soon as you can.” Andrew motioned his head toward the bears before handing me a bag of dog food and another leash. In a louder voice he said, “We got this at Wild Paws downtown. They have a lot more, treats and everything. But this should get you started.”

“I hear you’re going to a star shower Thursday,” Helen called over the Jeep’s motor. “Take the puppy. Introduce him to the sky!”