The Edge of the Shadows (7 page)

TWELVE

W
hile she'd been at the tree house, Derric and Ralph had made tons of progress, especially since Derric appeared to be working off a head of steam. He was stacking split logs like a reincarnated Abraham Lincoln.

His mind was running.
When's she going to start telling me . . . not now not now
declared that he was arguing with himself. But the strength of his wanting a full story from her told Becca that they were both just postponing an inevitable Q&A. Ralph Darrow seemed to reach this same conclusion because he said, “I've had enough for today. So've you two. Let's finish this later. Next week, next month, next year. Derric, a soda?”

Derric said, “No, thanks. I'm good, Mr. Darrow.”

Ralph said, “Well, I'm having me a rest,” and he strode back to the house. Generally in fine weather he took his rests on the porch. Today, however, he went inside.

Derric waited only a beat before asking, “So d'you want to tell me what's going on?” His whispers continued. He knew it was irrational to be feeling what he was feeling, which was insecurity, but that was what he was feeling and
like, why does she have to tell him and probably Seth . . . it's all uneven and out of control. . . .

Becca grabbed the ear bud to put in her ear. He and she needed a level playing field, at least. She said, “Nothing's going on.”

“So what was the deal with the tree house? Seth could have shown him. No way did you need to.”

“I wanted to tell him about the stove. I showed him how it works but—”

“Like Seth couldn't do that?”

“
But
I forgot that there's a tricky thing with the door. And you got to be careful how you bank it or it goes out by the morning. That's what I wanted to show him.”

He stared at her. “You must think I'm an idiot.” He'd earlier removed a long-sleeved T-shirt he'd been wearing, and he went for this now and jerked it over his head.

“What's
wrong
?” she said.

“What's with this cousin of yours that you never once ever mentioned to me?”

“Why would I mention her?”

“Why wouldn't you? Is she some kind of secret?”

“Derric, this is stupid. It's not like
you
do any mentioning of relatives.”

His face altered. He read a threat in her words. She hadn't intended it that way, but the truth was that she knew his deepest secret while all the time she hid hers from him. He said, “Nice, Becca.”

He began to walk off. He started for the hill and its upward path that would take him to where he'd left the Forester. She went after him.

“Look,” she said. “You've got a bigger worry right now than whether I have some deep, dark secret cousin, okay?”

He stopped. “That's supposed to mean what?”

“Rejoice.”

He looked around. It was a frantic look that told her once again he thought she was threatening him.

She put her hand on his arm and didn't let him pull away. She said, “Derric, your dad asked me about her. When he was going to that meeting at the arts center with the fire chief, remember? He asked me if you'd told me about someone in your life called Rejoice because you'd been writing letters to her that you never mailed.”

His lips appeared dry. His mouth probably was, too. “What'd you tell him?”

“I said that I didn't know, that maybe she was just a pretend person you'd been writing to if you hadn't mailed the letters. But he looked like he believed
that
just the way he'd believe me if I told him you'd been using a Ouija board to do your homework.”

“And that was all?” He sounded formal and stiff and not like her Derric whom she loved beyond reason.

“Of course that was all. Look, this is eating you up.
And
it's part of why you and I argue. You
have
to tell them the truth, Derric. You have to do it so you can be whole.”

At this, his face became so hard that it looked carved but Becca knew that beneath was a perfect soul and she wanted him to
see
this about himself and to understand it as well. He'd done something to someone that was inconceivable. But he wasn't evil. He was just a kid.

“And what d'you suggest I tell them?” His voice was cold and as hard as his face. “That I left my baby sister in Africa? That I didn't tell anyone she
was
my sister. That I let
her
forget it because she was too young to remember anyway and there were people who maybe wanted to adopt me and get me out of there and I wanted that, boy I
really
wanted that, Becca, and that I don't know where Rejoice even is now or if she's alive or dead because she could be dead, just like our parents she could be dead. AIDS or TB or a hundred other diseases. And d'you
think
I want to know if she is? Because . . .” He swung away from her. He started for the path.

Becca dashed after him and flung her arms around his waist, holding him in place, her head pressed to his back. She felt his broken breathing and the cry that tore through his throat.

“Let it
go
,” he said to her.

“I can't,” she murmured. “Because neither can you.”

“Then let
me
go. We both know that I'm worthless.”

“You aren't and I won't. I won't do that either.”

THIRTEEN

W
hen Hayley Cartwright saw Tatiana Primavera at the farmers' market on the following Saturday, she knew that trouble could be in the offing. For Tatiana saw her inside the family's booth and waved gaily, calling out, “Stay there. I'll be right back.” In her floppy hat and platform sandals, she headed toward the marimba band at the far end of the market. The music was lively, and it would probably keep the counselor occupied for a while. But she would be back soon or later, and Hayley knew she needed to use the time to get out of there.

As if sent by heaven, Isis Martin showed up in need of advice. She called Hayley over to the side of the Cartwrights' booth and brought forth a silver ring with a turquoise stone planted on it.

She said, “I can't decide. I
think
this is right for him, but is it, like, manly?”

Hayley looked at the ring. She knew the designer, an offbeat woman with magenta hair and very serious gold eye shadow. She was a Whidbey Island antique, but she knew her silver.

“Wow,” Hayley said when she took the ring in her hand. “Nice, Isis.”

“It's a present,” she said. “I wasn't sure about it. I mean, it
looks
guy-ish, don't you think?”

“Sure. Is it Aidan's birthday or something?”

“Aidan!” Isis laughed. “Not hardly. It's for Brady. My boyfriend. God, Aidan's made my life one enormous, hellacious disaster. The last thing I'd do is get a present for him. Like thank you for making us end up here in the middle of nowhere without even a Starbucks. As if.” And in a typical move that Hayley was becoming used to, Isis covered her mouth with her hand and said, “God! I'm sorry. Whidbey Island's great.
I'm
an airhead. I just blah blah blah and in goes my foot. Anyway, I've got Brady's ring—well, it's not really his, because they don't do rings at our school—and I wanted to send him something in return. Here, look.” She pulled a heavy gold chain from her neck, the same chain Hayley had admired the day they had met. Hayley hadn't seen anything upon it earlier as the chain was long, and it left whatever pendant might be on it dangling within whatever top Isis happened to be wearing. But now she drew the chain out and on it like a pendant was a man's large ring. It was white gold with a deep blue stone. “It's his dad's university ring, but he doesn't wear it. So Brady figured he wouldn't mind. Anyway, like I said, I want to get him a ring in return and I saw this one. What do you think?”

Hayley said it looked perfect to her. Isis stuffed the other ring back into her top. She said, “D'you know the time? C'n I look at your watch because . . . Damn damn damn. I'm s'posed to pick up Aidan! Hey, do you want to come? I got to bike with him to Maxwelton Beach. Grandam makes him run there from her house and back two times a day. Do
not
ask me why because she is just so weird. Only she doesn't believe he'll really do it, so I have to trail him on a bike to make sure. Can you come with me? I c'n take you home after. Hey, Mrs. Cartwright! Hi! Hi! C'n Hayley come with me for a while? The market's almost over, isn't it?”

Truth was that the market had two hours to go and although Brooke was there, helping out for once, she immediately began saying, “No fair! I don't want to do this stupid work all alone! Come
on
, Mom. Hayley can't go. And I'm
hungry
.”

But Julie Cartwright looked from Isis to Hayley and perhaps it was the possibility of a budding friendship and its benefits that she saw because she smiled and said, “You two go on. Brookie and I c'n handle things here.”

When Brooke cried out, “That is so
totally
—” the girls' mom added, “But just today, Hayley. Okay?” She also said to Isis, “We can't have this as a permanent arrangement.”

To which Isis replied, “Absolutely. You are a peach, Mrs. Cartwright.”

Hayley heard Brooke's continued protests as she hurried out of the market in Isis Martin's wake. It was a blessed escape, mostly from Tatiana Primavera.

• • •

IT TURNED OUT
that Aidan Martin was skateboarding at South Whidbey Community Park. This was situated directly behind the high school, and it comprised acres of playing fields, a sweeping forest, and trails. In the midst of it a children's playground had been built, a castle-and-fort structure with bridges and swings and walkways for inventive games. Just to the north of this was the concrete skateboard area, complete with ramps and bowls and ridges.

Aidan was, Hayley thought, the best boarder she'd ever seen. She didn't know the names of what he was doing, but they weren't anything like she'd ever witnessed on the island. She said to Isis, “He's really good.”

“Yeah, he got good in the last two years,” Isis replied. “Well, he had to do something. Aidan! We gotta get back to Grandam before she produces a cow.”

Oddly, Aidan stopped his boarding at once. He slapped hands with the four other boys—“Boy, they look like losers,” Isis muttered—and he came to his sister. He said, “You're late, so you better be the one to explain.”

Isis said, “She's probably, you know,
occupied
.” She said the last word with sly emphasis, adding, “Linda was s'posed to be coming over,” and told Hayley frankly, “That's the grandam's lesbian lover.”

They trooped to the car. Aidan climbed into the back, where he lit a cigarette. His sister said, “Aidan! Where the hell did you get—” and he said, “What?” like someone for whom this was business as usual. He added, “You want a hit or something?” and he laughed strangely, a high sound like a caught animal.

Isis glanced at Hayley and rolled her eyes. “Siblings.” She sighed.

“I hear you,” Hayley told her.

FOURTEEN

N
ancy Howard's place was on the same road as the high school and the community park, but many miles away: across the highway and on the far west side of Whidbey Island. To get there they coursed through Midvale Corner with its rich farmland. This altered soon enough to the spacious vistas of Maxwelton Valley and then to forest and a winding road, which ultimately opened up on the south end of an enormous body of water whose extreme low tide had given it its name: Useless Bay. Before reaching this water, Isis turned right off the road and took them up a narrow driveway. This bore a sign reading
MAXWELTON
ART
, which was wood carved to depict hand-painted soaring bald eagles, breeching orcas, swimming salmon, and grazing deer.

“Grandam's,” Isis said of the sign. And as they got out of the car in a half-moon area that was thick with wood chippings, the roar of a motor came from behind the house.

Hayley trailed Isis up stairs that appeared to be built along the side of a garage. They followed the roar of the motor. This took them along a balcony and around the corner of the building, where a deck overlooked a working area so littered with debris that Hayley had to wonder how anyone moved among the logs, blocks of wood, half-finished sculptures, discarded lumber, assorted chain saws, awls, hammers, handsaws, nails, screws, bolts, and buckets of paint. In the midst of this, the Martins' grandmother was applying a very large shrieking chain saw to an enormous upright block of wood. She wore major earphones to protect her ears, overalls and a long sleeved T-shirt to protect her body. She had goggles on her eyes and a hard hat on her head.

Hayley had to smile. Palo Alto, she figured, had malls and at least one Starbucks if not half a dozen. But she'd bet her life there was no one within a hundred miles of the place remotely like Isis Martin's grandmother.

When Nancy Howard paused for a moment, switched off the chain saw, and stepped back from her work, Isis yelled, “Hey, Nance!”

Her grandmother looked up. She removed her earphones. “Where in God's creation've you been?” she demanded. “Where's your brother?”

“Getting ready to run. We were at the market. This is Hayley Cartwright.”

“Bill's daughter,” Nancy Howard said. “You look just like his mom.”

“Whatcha doing?” Isis asked her grandmother.

“Now that is one hell of a stupid question. What does it look like I'm doing? This's that Sills Road project I was telling you about. God knows why they want a bear—nothing stupider, you ask me—but if that's what they want and they got the
dinero
to pay for it, a bear it is.” She used her teeth to pull the sleeve of her T-shirt back and she looked at a man's watch on her wrist. She said to Isis, “Two hours. There's clean-up work to be done down here and I want you and Aidan back to do it. Got it?”

Isis said to Hayley, “Servitude. How much happier can that possibly make me?” And then to her grandmother, “Aye aye, Captain Howard, sir.”

“And keep your eyes on Aidan,” Nancy added.

Isis muttered something that Hayley couldn't hear. She waved gaily, however, called out, “Will do,” and led the way back to the front of the building. Hayley saw that the house itself was on the opposite side of the property. It was afflicted with the same amount of debris that appeared to be everywhere else, but there were finished wood carvings nearby, attempting to decorate something that looked like a garden in extremis.

Aidan came out of the house. He'd put on running shoes, but that was the extent of his changing his clothes for a run. While he came toward them, Isis led Hayley into the open garage where two bikes were leaning against a wooden trailer. She said to Hayley, “Grab one of these. We ride, he runs.” And to Aidan, “Go on, then. We'll catch up.”

He shrugged and jogged off down the driveway as Isis rolled her bike out of the garage. It was an ancient thing with wheels like doughnuts, and Hayley's bike turned out to be the same. These belonged to Nancy and Linda-the-lesbian-lover, Isis told her. They possessed only one gear, but they were the only things on offer.

The two girls set off, and they soon caught up to Aidan, who was cooperatively jogging along the side of the road. But within two hundred yards of Nancy Howard's driveway, Aidan leaped off the road and disappeared along a trail into the forest. Isis saw him go but made no protest. She merely continued heading toward the beach, as if nothing unusual had occurred.

Hayley came up alongside her. “Shouldn't we follow him or something?”

Isis cast a look over her shoulder in the direction her brother had taken. “No way is he about to put up with that. And anyway, he'll just go in there and smoke if he managed to steal some matches from Grandam. We'll meet up with him on the road later. Far as Grandam knows, we'll be glued to him like a second skin. Come on. Race you to the beach, okay?”

The girls made quick work of getting down to Maxwelton Beach, a community comprising the large homes of people made wealthy by the Northwest's tech industry and old beach cottages that had long been the summer places of generations of families from over town who came to the island only when the weather was fair. A ball park and tiny playground gave the community a place to gather, and a boat launch offered them the opportunity to set a course into Useless Bay if the tide was high enough.

It was to this boat launch that Isis rode with Hayley following. There at its edge, she dropped her bike to the ground. She waited for Hayley to do likewise, and together they walked onto the beach.

It was mostly very wet sand, some driftwood, a lot of mud, and half a dozen tidepools. Here, there were walkers with dogs, moving along the vast expanse of Useless Bay, which horseshoed from tree-rich Indian Point in the south all the way north to Double Bluff Light. This was marked by the great tan bluffs of sandy earth that gave that spot its name.

Isis said to Hayley, “I want to show you something. I got the best idea . . .” and she set off down the beach in the direction of Indian Point. Not one hundred yards along, however, a large sign told potential beach walkers that the property beyond it was private and they were to keep off.

Hayley pointed this out to Isis. Isis pooh-poohed the warning, continuing on her way. She said, “No beach c'n be private. No
way
does that happen in California. You c'n be a movie star or something and you can't keep people off a beach in front of your place in Malibu.”

“Isis!”

The other girl stopped walking. She said, “What?”

Hayley stumbled for words. “It's . . . Things're different here. The beach is private.”

“That sucks. I want to
show
you something.”

“Someone's going to come out and yell and—”

“Good grief. Like we're scared to get yelled at?” Isis continued on her way. “Let 'em call the cops if they don't like it. We'll be out of here before the cops show up.”

“But if it's private property . . .”

Isis stamped her feet. “Hayley! Cowgirl
up
, for God's sake.”

Hayley looked to her left, feeling furtive. The closest houses appeared uninhabited. More of them would become so as autumn deepened. And anyway, they were separated from the beach by a canal of wetland, so what was the big deal, truly, if she and Isis merely walked by them? It wasn't like they were burglars. They were just two girls strolling along the beach in the sun. So she followed Isis.

Some way along, the canal of wetland ended. At that point, Hayley and Isis came to a vacant lot, then to a tiny beach cottage listing to the right, then to another vacant lot with a chain across it. Isis stopped walking at a final house that was larger than all the rest. To Hayley's horror, the other girl walked right up to this place. It had a low wall separating a small yard from the beach and she climbed over it. She said to Hayley, “No big deal. I've been coming since June. The place's for sale. It's empty. Come
on
.”

At least, Hayley thought, as she followed Isis, the other girl didn't proceed through some open window or push in a sliding glass door. What she wanted Hayley to see was a fire pit and its accompanying seating area along with a covered in-ground spa and the kind of outdoor kitchen one saw featured in magazines.

“Isn't this the coolest ever?” Isis asked. “This is exactly what I'm going to have when Brady and I are married. Course that's not happening for
years
because he's got to do medical school and all that, but when he starts making piles of money, it'll be the beach for us.” There was a stack of beach chairs abutting the house, and Isis went for one of these as she talked.

Hayley watched her, incredulous, as Isis brought a chair over to the fire pit, went for another, sat down, and gestured Hayley to do the same. She put her feet up on the river stones of the fire pit's edge and continued chatting. “Course, I wouldn't tell Brady any of this. You won't say anything, will you? He's gonna come up if Aidan 'n' me are still here at Christmas.” Isis was digging in her purse as she spoke and she seemed finally to notice that Hayley hadn't joined her. She said, “I'm just babbling. It's 'cause I'm nervous. How are
you
? You look so nice today. That color is perfect for your complexion, which is
also
perfect and I know perfect 'cause my mom's a dermatologist. And
anyway 
. . . ” She finally found what she was looking for and she brought out a slim chrome box from which she took out a cigarette.

Isis caught Hayley's look of surprise and said, “I used to smoke. This's electronic. You ever see one? Watch.”

It took no lighting at all but when she sucked on it, the tip of it glowed and what it emitted looked like smoke but was instead vapor that bore no scent. It gave her a hit of nicotine, Isis said. Unfortunately, she was still addicted. This was how she dealt with the addiction. It had been her mom's idea.

“My parents know everything about me,” she confided to Hayley. “Sex with Brady and two other guys before him, smoking, diet pills till I got caught, weed
also
till I got caught. Oxycontin once.
Just
once. We talk about it all 'cause the one thing they don't need is more than one kid who likes to keep secrets.”

• • •

WHEN THEY RETURNED
to the spot on the road where Aidan had disappeared into the trees, the boy himself was waiting for them. He joined them wordlessly and they trooped back to Nancy Howard's house. There, Nancy's partner, Linda, had arrived. Isis declared that she didn't know Linda's last name and didn't want to know it but what she
did
want to know was why Linda didn't at least remove that mustache of hers. Then she bundled Hayley into the car while Aidan silently made for the house and his bedroom, where Isis said he had “a cache of
Hustler
magazines under the bed.”

True to her word, Isis drove Hayley home. The drive to Smugglers Cove Farm and Flowers was a long one from Maxwelton Beach, but Isis kept up her chatter all the way. When they got to the farm, Hayley told her friend just to drop her at the end of the driveway, but Isis said that no way was she going to do that, and she turned right in.

She said, “Is
all
of this your family's? I get it now. You didn't want me to know you're rich. Wow, what kind of barn is that?”

“It's for chickens.”

“Chickens? In a barn that size? Who would've thought. My mom
never
told me there were places like this up here. It's just like
Little House on the Prairie
.”

As she was talking, they were bumping along the road toward the house. In the distance, Hayley could see that her dad had come out of the big barn where the tractor was kept. He was dragging himself across the farmyard, demanding that his legs work as they used to work while the walker helped keep him upright. Seeing his struggle, she felt a pain in her chest.

“Mom never says one nice thing about Whidbey Island,” Isis was continuing. “What my grandam says when Mom starts going on about Whidbey is, ‘You never knew when you had it good, Lisa Ann.' Lisa Ann's my mom. Are you aware of how many Lisas there are in her generation? Only like a billion. It's why she named me Isis. Like, how many Isises are you gonna run into in one lifetime? I tell her if she hates her name she should have changed it to Chloe or something 'cause there aren't any Chloes her age. Or Beulah.” Isis laughed. “It's not like there's
ever
going to be a run on Beulah.”

Hayley watched her dad. He'd reached the big sycamore tree that shaded part of the house. He paused there and took note of the car's approach. He lifted a hand to wave and Hayley held her breath. But he didn't fall.

Isis stopped the car and said, “
Any
way thanks, Hayl. You're the best. I hope I didn't talk too much. Like I said, it's just nerves. Thanks for putting up with me.”

Hayley's dad stumbled. Hayley bit her lip. She grabbed the door handle and said, “Got to go. See you in school, okay?”

Then she was out of the car and over to her father. Behind her she heard the sound of Isis reversing the car, turning, and steaming off happily down the driveway.

• • •

HAYLEY KNEW BETTER
than to offer her father help. But she walked with him and told him about her day as they inched toward the back door. There were two steps to be negotiated and Hayley took her dad's arm. He said, “I'm not an old fart, Hayley,” and shook her off. Thankfully, the door opened and Hayley's mom came outside.

She wouldn't take “leave me be” from her husband. She said, “Don't be silly, Bill. I'm not intending to let you fall and break a leg.” He relented and they got him inside. But from there, he worked his way through the kitchen to the back of the house, where the downstairs bathroom was.