The Language of Sycamores (14 page)

Worry replaced peace as I drove home. I was suddenly aware of what an irrational act it had been—tromping down to the river in a silk suit and pumps, climbing down the rocks, plunging into the water. It wasn’t like me to do something so careless, so pointless and impulsive.

So free.

That was how I felt when I fell into the water. Free from everything. Lighter than air. Every logical impulse was telling me it was foolish, yet I wanted to turn the car around, go back, and dive in again.

The thought scared me. Maybe I was having a breakdown, some kind of temporary insanity brought on by stress. Where would it end? How far would it go? How far would I go? How long would I keep up this illogical search for myself? Maybe it was time to go back to Boston. Maybe things would be more normal there. I could wrap myself up in the job search and filling out unemployment paperwork. Practical things. Predictable things . . .

Everyone was in the yard when I reached the farm. As I stepped out of the car, they hurried to the fence, then stopped and stared in shock.

James surveyed me from head to toe, his mouth open. “Karen, what the. . . ?”

“What happened?” Kate finished for him, gaping like she was looking at a space alien. “Where have you been? What happened to your clothes?”

Only Ben came closer. He slipped past Kate in the gateway, frantically giving the car and me a once-over. “Are you all right? Did you have a wreck or something?”

My stomach rolled over. They all thought I was a mental case, and it probably seemed that way. “I’m fine.” I tried to look as composed as was possible in a wet suit, muddy pumps, and bedraggled hair. This was very unfamiliar territory for all of us. I never even left the bathroom without makeup on, hair fixed, clothes pressed. “Everyone calm down. I went round the mountain coming home from Dell’s. It . . . took a little longer than I thought, that’s all.”

Joshua squeezed past Kate and stood beside his dad, his little arms stiff at his sides, fists clenched, face turned up toward me. “Aunt Ka-wen, did you go swimmin’?”

I could tell by the body language that what he meant was,
Did you go swimming without me?
“Yes, I did,” I admitted, and he narrowed his eyes, quickly producing a pout lip. “But I didn’t mean to. I was down by the river, and I slipped.” Not exactly true.

Everyone seemed relieved. Karen was making some measure of sense, which was what we were all accustomed to.

Joshua thought about it as he studied the evidence of my plunge into Mulberry Creek. “You shoulda put on your play clothes and old shoes.” He braced his hands on his hips, shaking his head, doing a fair imitation of his mother. “Them clothes are
chu-ch
clothes.”

Right then, I could have picked him up and kissed him for stating the obvious in such a perfectly adorable way. Everyone chuckled, and the tension was broken.

“Joshua!” Kate giggled. “Stop bossing Aunt Karen around. And it’s
those
clothes, not
them
clothes.”

Joshua screwed his lips to one side, giving us an exasperated look, because, of course, he was serious.

I pointed at him, trying to look like I was having a eureka moment. “You are absolutely right. Next time I will put on my play clothes. But this time I just couldn’t resist. I went looking for an old place your mommy and I used to swim, and do you know what? I found it. I even found the very spot where your mommy and I carved our initials into the rocks.”

Joshua gave me a confused look, but Kate gasped. “Oh, my gosh, I haven’t thought about that place in years. You found the mermaid pool?”

“I did.” All of a sudden, I didn’t care if my clothes were wet or if I looked foolish in front of everyone. The luster in Kate’s eyes was worth all of it. She remembered, and so did I. We felt the bond of common experience, too seldom shared. “And that wasn’t all I found. I found the sister trees. They’re just down the river from where Grandma Rose used to take us swimming. That’s why she went there, and that’s why she’d always walk around the bend without us after we got out to dry. She wasn’t going there to pick special flowers. She was going there to remember her sisters. What she said to Augustine in the letter wasn’t true. She never stopped thinking about them, even all those years later.”

Kate sighed, her eyes misty. “I wish we knew what happened.”

“I don’t know if we ever will,” I admitted.

“Maybe not.”

I nodded, and the strange thing was that I understood exactly what she meant. Just a few days before, I couldn’t imagine why Kate was so determined to dredge up all the old family history—why she cared. Now I wanted to know, too. This was not just her history, it was
our
history, and with the future so uncertain, the past seemed important.

That evening before we left for church, Kate showed me the Gray family Bible she’d found hidden in the attic. We stood together looking at the page with Sadie’s name scratched out, then we closed the Bible with the sense that Sadie might forever remain a mystery.

After the church service, I ended up in a Sunday school room with Jenilee and several other church ladies, moving tables and rearranging chairs, then laying out mats borrowed from the school gym to produce a practice area for our young dancers.

“Kate said you’re going to stick around and help with the Jumpkids camp tomorrow,” Jenilee said as the two of us labored to drag the heavy foam rubber squares into place and lock the tongue-and-groove joints to form a huge square.

“For a day or two. I wanted to help Dell get started, at least.”

Jenilee shrugged back dampened strands of blond hair while working to secure the joints on one of the mats. It was hard to tell which was more difficult for her—hauling the mats around or carrying on the conversation. “That’s really nice of you.”

“Actually, I’m looking forward to it.” I didn’t know why I felt the need to tell her that.

She glanced over at me with a genuine, affectionate smile, one that said she was glad I wasn’t the grouch Kate sometimes made me out to be. “I think the camp sounds great. The kids are going to have such a good time. Gosh, if I would have gotten to do something like this when I was a kid, I would have . . .” She left the sentence unfinished, pretending to focus on the work. “Well, anyway, when things at home aren’t so great, it means a lot to have something positive to do. It’ll mean a lot to Dell.”

“Thanks,” I said as we finished locking the last joint and sat in the center of the mat. “And by the way, you’re still a kid. Don’t let the pressures of premed and work and everything else take that away from you. Enjoy being twenty-two. You only get to do it once.” I gazed into her brown eyes and remembered my grandmother saying that to me the first time I came to visit from college. I told her I didn’t play the piano anymore because I didn’t have time for it.

Jenilee nodded, seeming to understand. “That’s what Mrs. Jaans told me. You’d like her. I hope she can come over when we all get together for Memorial Day.”

A spark of interest lit somewhere inside me. “I’d like to meet her. When you talk to her, will you be sure and ask her if she knows anything about Sadie and what happened between Grandma and Augustine? E-mail me in Boston if you find out anything.”

“All right.” Jenilee seemed surprised by my interest.

“I guess we’d better get on with the rest of the work.” I climbed to my feet, already feeling stiff and sore. Jenilee followed, and together we helped with the last of the preparations for the Jumpkids camp. When the group was finished, we stood together in the sanctuary and prayed for the success of the camp.

As we finished the prayer and parted ways, Jenilee and Caleb said good-bye and headed off to Brother Baker’s house. James and I waited by the door while Kate and Ben gathered the kids from the nursery. James gave me the same worried look that he’d sent my way several times since I came home wet and dirty in my Sunday suit. I wasn’t acting like myself, and he didn’t know what to think.

“Everything all right?” he said finally, focusing on the heavy arched ceiling timbers.

“Yes.” Just then, I felt all right. It felt good to be tired from actually doing something rather than just from stress and artificial exercise workouts.

Looking at the altar, now transformed into a Jumpkids practice stage, I thought about Brother Baker and his menagerie of rusty pots. Had that only been this morning?

Tonight, I felt like one of those relics—worn-out, cracked, and imperfect. Useful, for the first time in a long time.

Chapter 14

I
awoke early on the first morning of Jumpkids camp, filled with an excitement that both surprised and invigorated me. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been so filled with curiosity about what the day would bring. The last few years at Lansing had become so routine as the company declined and the corporate culture grew stagnant that the days lacked any sense of possibility. But today seemed to be filled with endless potential for new and interesting experiences, and I couldn’t wait for it to begin.

I made coffee and dressed, then stood on the porch and waited for the sun to rise. In the quiet gray morning hush, I walked among Grandma’s flowers, some already in bloom, and some just beginning to push from the damp soil. How many times I had seen her out there on her knees planting and pruning, handling tiny seedlings with a gentleness she seldom showed to people?
We’re never really gone
, she told me as we worked in the garden one day.
We survive in the things we leave behind.

She survived in this flower bed, in the gardens of other people to whom she had given tiny seedlings, starts, and bulbs. All over the county there were people who remembered getting friendship flowers from Grandma Rose. There were neighbors to whom she had taken bouquets and casseroles when they were sick, babies for whom she had
knitted afghans, and children she’d taught to make pies and quilts in 4-H class.

Everywhere I looked, there were things she had left behind, things that put her life in stark contrast to mine. What had I left behind that anyone would remember?

The yard gate squealed on its hinges and I turned to look, letting the question go unanswered as Dell came up the path. She was wearing denim shorts and a red T-shirt, her feet bare and her long, dark hair swinging back and forth. She raised her hand and waved, dangling a Wal-Mart sack that probably contained her shoes.

I was filled with a rush of love that surprised me. She must have seen it, because she smiled, her teeth white against her tanned skin, her eyes glittering.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered, as if she didn’t want to wake anyone else, so that this morning could be just for the two of us. “I’m nervous.”

“Me too, but I’m really excited. This is going to be so much fun. I couldn’t sleep, either. I’ve been up since four a.m.”

Giggling, she jittered in place, something I had never seen her do before. “Me too,” she echoed, then threw her arms out and slapped them around my waist in a hug so tight it pushed the air from my lungs in a soft
Ooof.

I laughed, slipping my arms around her slim shoulders and resting my chin on top of her head. “We’re quite a pair.”

“Yeah.”

James was standing on the porch of the little house, watching us and smiling, his expression filled with a fondness that I knew wasn’t just for me. He pointed at Dell, winked, and gave me a silent thumbs-up.

As spontaneously as the hug began, it was over, and Dell stood looking around the yard, not sure what to do next.

I glanced at my watch. “It’s six a.m. The Jumpkids people should be getting to the church about now. How about we head out now, stop by the café and get some doughnuts, and go help them get their things set up at church?”

Dell looked uncertain at first, then excited, then uncertain again. “ ’K,” she said finally.

James gave us a quizzical look as we walked to the little house, and I trotted up the steps to get my purse and briefcase. “We’re going into town to help set up for the day camp. Neither of us can wait.” I gave him a quick kiss, which seemed to surprise him. Lately, when we parted ways in the morning, we said good-bye from three rooms away while we were both busy doing other things.

He frowned as I walked past him and started down the steps. “You’re going to town at six a.m.?” It was impossible to miss the undertones in his voice. He had something on his mind this morning. “I thought maybe we’d better take a minute to talk about . . . things.”

“Things?” I repeated.

Stroking his bottom lip thoughtfully, he nodded. “Things. Like . . . flights. Are you planning to catch one this evening? Do you want to drive back to the airport with me tomorrow? I’m just trying to get the schedule in my head.”

Ah, the schedule.
Morse code for
the plan
. I’d strayed from the plan by staying for the first day of Jumpkids camp, and in the cool light of morning, James was worried. This wasn’t normal. It wasn’t like me.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I thought I’d play it by ear.”

James raised an eyebrow.

“I’m just excited,” I explained. “It’s hard to picture exactly how the day’s going to unfold, so I thought I’d leave my options open.” It sounded like I was making excuses for my erratic behavior.

If Dell hadn’t been standing there, James probably would have gotten down to brass tacks, but as it was, he glanced at her fondly. “How about you, Shorty? Are you ready for this? All charged up for a big day?”

Dell nodded, and I smiled at her, glad to shift the focus. “James, you’re going to have to quit calling her Shorty. She’s almost as tall as I am.” Spanning a hand across, I measured the difference between us—probably five or six inches.

James nodded in agreement, as if he were seeing her for the first time. “Yeah, in a year or so, she’ll be all girly. Too big to go fishing,” he joked. “She won’t want to touch a can of stink bait, and she’ll be scared of the fish, and—”

“Huh-uh!” Dell squealed. “You’re the one who’s scared of the fish.”

James coughed indignantly. “Yeah, just remember who caught the whoppin’ big specimen down at Sand Barge Hole last time.”

“
I
had to unhook it.”

“Because I was busy wrestling that monster to shore,” James defended, and I had a mental image of him as the Crocodile Hunter, battling a giant catfish.

Dell giggled, motioning to his guitar, which was balanced on one of the rocking chairs. “Are you gonna come to camp with us today?”

Stroking a hand through his tousled hair, he scratched the back of his head contemplatively. “You know, I think I might do that.” He seemed glad to be asked, and I wished I’d thought to include him. “I’ll try to come by later. I have to meet a man this morning about building a tractor barn on the land Grandma left us. Can’t have our tractor sitting outside all winter.”

“Our tractor?” I quirked a brow. “I didn’t know we had a tractor. When did we get a tractor?”

James stiffened. Of course, he thought I was being critical. “I told you about that, Karen. I was here on layover when they auctioned off the Tompsey place down the road, and I bought the old tractor, remember? About six months ago.”

“Oh.” I nodded, but he could tell I didn’t remember. He’d probably said it in passing, and I’d been focused on something else and it was just another missed connection between us. Now I was doing it again. I was focusing on Dell and Jumpkids when I should have been taking time to talk to him. I was tromping through the woods, trying to find myself, when I should have been trying to find
us
.

“I guess we’ll see you later, then,” I said, feeling a twinge when he didn’t answer right away.

Dell swiveled back and forth between us, trying to read the situation. “Hey, maybe after Jumpkids we can all go on a tractor ride.” James and I both looked at her simultaneously, and she raised her eyebrows hopefully, adding, “That would be cool.”

I found myself nodding in agreement. “You know what? That
would
be cool.” If James and I were to make contact again, what better way
than on our land with his new tractor? If that didn’t show him I was interested, really interested, in reconnecting, what would?

“Cool,” Dell said.

“Cool,” James agreed; then he winked at her and smiled slightly at me. “Guess I’d better get the tractor shined up.” Looking pleased, he leaned against the porch post.

“See you after a while, then,” I said. “If you can come by in time for lunch, we’re having potluck, courtesy of the church ladies. It should be good.”

He looked tempted. “I’ll try.”

We said good-bye; then Dell and I climbed into the car, driving to town without really talking, both of us trying to picture the day ahead. In my vision, it was a perfect day—a day in which Dell found out how special and talented she was, a day in which I shared the music I had kept bottled up for so long, a day in which James came by and together we did a little good work in this unlikely place before going to see his tractor and discovering our land. It would be a day that ended differently than it began.

But when we arrived at the church, things looked anything but idyllic. The parking lot was filled with stacks of sound equipment, boxes of costumes, bits and pieces of what looked like a stage, and nine confused volunteer college kids. A pack of stray dogs was running through the middle of things, searching for discarded food and playing tug-of-war with someone’s duffel bag.

Dell and I came with our doughnuts just in time. We climbed out of the car, and I did exactly what Grandma Rose would have done if she had been there. I assessed the situation and took charge. The college kids quickly gathered around me, attracted by the doughnut box. “Where’s Keiler Bradford?” I asked. “I thought he was supposed to be heading things up.”

A tall, clean-cut kid in a basketball jersey traded an answer for a doughnut. “He had to go back to pick up the speaker cables and the music folders. We accidentally left them behind when we packed up the stuff. He oughta be here pretty soon”—he grimaced, looking worried, then finished meekly—“I think.”

I chewed the side of my lip, glancing at my watch. Six thirty. In two hours, the parking lot would be filled with cars dropping off eighty-seven children in need of structured activity. The group in front of me seemed anything but structured. They were . . . well . . . ragtag. Everything from a basketball player with a baby face to an African-American kid with a
Mod Squad
Afro, a boy with buzzed hair and a stringy goatee, a leggy high-society blonde with a ponytail, two fairly normal-looking girls in jeans and T-shirts, a young man with horn-rimmed glasses who must have shopped for clothes in Mr. Rogers’ neighborhood, and a girl with a tie-dyed peace sign on her shirt and an earring in her nose.

“Where’s Brother Baker?” I asked.

The basketball player winced again and reached for another doughnut, looking defeated. “He left a note that he had to go hunt down the plumber. The bathroom’s flooded, so the water’s turned off.”

Oh, no.
This did not look good. “Well . . . we’ll just accomplish what we can until they get back.” The college kids gave me hopeful nods. Finally, someone was going to take charge. “Does anyone have
any
idea where this stuff goes?”

They stared at me like I was speaking in a foreign language.

“No, ma’am,” said the girl with the peace sign on her shirt, smiling in a way that was sweet in spite of the nose ring. “None of us have done this before. We all just came in for the summer term, and the director had to quit last Friday. She went into premature labor, and her doctor put her on bed rest. She wasn’t going to come back after she had her baby in the fall, anyway, but she was supposed to stay through the summer. We don’t really know what we’re supposed to do. Keiler’s the only one who was even
here
last summer.”

“Oh.” My hopes sank. I had been counting on so much from this camp, but this motley crew of young people hardly looked like miracle workers. “Well . . . that’s all right.”
It is?
“We’re going to get this figured out.”
We are?
“Let me show you the rooms we set up last night, then we’ll move things in. If something ends up in the wrong place, we’ll just move it again later. One way or another, we’ll be ready before the children arrive.” My voice rose with convincing enthusiasm, and I
punctuated the statement with a little “Hoo-rah” hand motion that was worthy of Bear Bryant or General Patton.

The troops started nodding in unison, bolstered by the pep talk. They returned a chorus of “O.K,” “All right,” “Sure,” and “Cool.” The girl with the nose ring said, “Radrat.” I wasn’t even sure what that meant, but she looked willing.

With a military-style pivot, I started toward the building, Dell and the doughnut box trailing behind me. Halfway to the church, I realized that the doughnut eaters were not following. They were standing in a circle with their hands joined, praying, which didn’t seem like a bad idea. We were definitely in need of some divine intervention. When they finished, they grabbed their backpacks from a psychedelic minibus with
JUMPKIDS FOUNDATION
printed on the side. I pulled my cell phone out and called Kate. What we needed now were reinforcements.