Between the Roots (8 page)

Gathering his board, Sammy hurried down the steps to join his mother. As she headed in his direction, he could tell she was upset.

"What's up, Mom? Do you know that guy?" Sammy asked.

"What do you mean?" she answered.

"That guy, the one you were just talking with. Do you know him?"

"Oh, he wanted directions, that's all." She wasn't very convincing. The ride home was long and silent. They both had things on their minds. Sammy's were nagging at him.
What's going on? Why the secretive stuff?

They had made trips lots of times and always they ended well. He was tired of the intrigue, his mother's moodiness, and the constant tension in the air.
What was happening to their world?

S
AMMY WAS ON THE
phone with John. "I just called Walt. He suspects we still don't trust him," he said, "and I think he'll talk. He's going to bring his granddaughter."

"So why bring along AnLillie?"

"I told him to do it, and he liked the idea. Besides, I think I can reason with her. She must know if there ever was a play rehearsal. She'll tell us; she's just a kid for God's sake!"

"Sounds like a good excuse."

"Excuse for what?"

John laughed. "For you to see AnLillie."

Presidents' Day meant no school, no office work, and the sweet feeling of sleeping in late. "The Date," as John called it, was today. With John as moral support, Sammy agreed to join Walt and AnLillie at the Ice Cream Shop.

Shortly after lunch John was waiting on the store porch, never needing to be called twice to dessert. Sammy parked his bike in the rack beside the building. A fairly new dirt bike was locked in the rack's second cage. John craned his neck to watch Sammy eye the bike, run his hand over the bars, and finally pat the seat.

"Cool! Is this your new purchase?"

John smirked and said, "Yeah, pretty sweet, isn't it?"

"So where did you get it?"

"A guy at Dad's work wanted to upgrade, so he sold it for a song." John beamed as he helped Sammy check it out, spitting on the frame and polishing it with his jacket sleeve. "Do you want to hear what I sang?" At that moment a horn sounded and a brake squealed.

"Guess Walt's here."

Both boys rounded the building just as the car hopped into a large parking place in front of the store. Walt was out of the vehicle before AnLillie had her seat belt unfastened. The old man was on a mission. He hobbled around the front of the car, grabbed John's elbow, and hauled him toward the store. His mischievousness showed on his wrinkled face. Sammy was left to help AnLillie out of the car. As agile as she was, she really didn't need help. John and Walt were now watching side by side in front of the store, both of them grinning and up to no good.

Sammy knew it was a setup, but he decided to make the most of it. There were questions he needed to ask AnLillie. Walt and John's silliness was making that possible. As he watched her, he detected a subtle change.

"Hi, AnLillie. It's me, Sammy." What a stupid thing to say. She knows who
I am.

"Good to see you, Sammy. It's been a long time."

Sammy realized he hadn't seen her since November, when she handed him the coupons.

"Say, weren't you wearing glasses the last time I saw you?"

"I finally outgrew them. I don't even need them for reading. It's amazing!"

"Yeah, guess they can be a nuisance."
She must have been one of those four-eyed toddlers, practically born wearing glasses.

They continued into the store. Fortunately, one of the two booths was available. Walt and John slipped in together on one side, leaving AnLillie and Sammy to share the other bench. A waiter came by and got their orders: three sundaes, and one coffee milkshake for AnLillie. John suddenly remembered he wanted to show off his bike to Walt, who was eager to go. Sammy suspected it was an excuse to leave him alone with AnLillie.
So this was their romantic setup. The old coot and the frisky doughboy, getting their laughs
, Sammy thought. Well, he would make the most of it. This was his chance to find out more about the mysterious Walt.

As soon as John and Walt slipped out the door, the conversation between AnLillie and Sammy became richly confusing. AnLillie began, "You look so familiar." She stared at him. Sammy sat nervously on the edge of the bench.
This is silly. Why am I so nervous around a little kid?

"Yeah, I've got a pretty ordinary face." Sammy didn't know what else to say.

"Walt told me you were interested in returning to the Colony. How was your outside experience?" AnLillie asked.

What was she talking about? He enjoyed riding his bike and skiing; was that what she meant? Not wanting to appear dumb, he guarded his answer. "Fine, how was yours?" That's not what he wanted to ask her. There were other questions: Who is Walt? Why is it that she and Walt seem to talk in circles around him?

The floodgate burst. Her response puzzled him. "I loved Severee. There were so many wonderful times, not to say there weren't some forgettable moments too. I especially loved living in Washington and Idaho, beautiful country. We even stayed in Alaska a couple years. I can't believe it is over."

Sammy wondered what was "over." His self-consciousness kept him from asking questions like the meaning of "Severee."
It must be a place,
he reasoned.

Walt and John returned from the bikes and slid into the booth, both of them giving Sammy a sly, up-to-no-good grin. AnLillie continued, "The longest time I ever lived in any one place was six years. We moved around more often than most, every couple years, especially going in and out of retreat for the children."

What kind of game is she playing? What is she talking about?
She looked so sincere.

"Oh, yeah, me too," Sammy said. "I've been moving all over the place."

John and Walt slid into the booth as AnLillie said, "Were you ever under suspicion?" Walt appeared instantly agitated.

What does she mean "suspicion"? How could this kid have lived in so many places?

She repeated the question: "
Were
you?"

"Oh, always, you know, you know," Sammy blundered on, keeping his composure as he caught John's surprised look. Walt's agitation grew. Sammy had no idea what he was talking about.

The clerk brought the desserts. Walt hijacked the conversation as he skipped from one topic to another. He couldn't say enough about John's new bicycle, the changing weather, the delicious maple nut-flavoring in his sundae . . . And didn't she want to get to the art store? Walt's Cupid joke had soured. AnLillie's open conversation with Sammy clearly made Walt anxious.

Finally AnLillie interrupted. "Do you suppose anyone else wants to talk?"

Sammy marveled at AnLillie's precociousness. He never would have talked to his elder so brazenly. But then, he never had an elder like Walt.
I wonder where she got that attitude?
Walt sat silent, so Sammy spoke: "I was wondering about the Colony? Can you tell us more about it?"

"No!" Walt blurted.

AnLillie patted Walt's hand and responded, "I suppose it does look different to you. I know it took me months to find my way around."

Walt began to cough. He reached for his water glass, coughing so hard his hand shook, spilling water onto the table. The coughing wouldn't stop. A man from the next table offered to help; Walt waved him away, insisting between coughs that he was all right. John gathered napkins and sopped the spilled water into the middle of the table. AnLillie looked on, helplessly.

Sammy realized Walt was faking, putting on an act to distract AnLillie from further conversation. Whatever Walt was afraid of went beyond their meeting in the forest. This strange old man was not what he appeared to be. It had been nearly half a year since Sammy had met Walt; now he feared him more than on that strange morning last fall.

Sammy felt panic. He wanted out of this place, away from AnLillie and Walt. He needed time to make some sense of what just happened. Walt and Sammy locked gazes. That look confirmed an uncomfortable wedge between them, larger than the distance between their ages.

"I gotta go." Sammy jumped to his feet. "Hope you're feeling better, Walt. John, are you coming with me?" A few quiet seconds passed. "See ya, AnLillie."

Before John could protest, Sammy walked toward the front counter and out the door. The bike lock was stubborn under Sammy's nervous fingers. Before he could free it, John rounded the corner.

His last chunk of ice cream garbled his words. "Sammy, what's wrong?"

"It's not right, John. There's something very bizarre going on with that old man, and I plan to find out what before I spend any more time with him." They could hear the bell above the store's door as it opened then closed. John seemed to have caught Sammy's nervousness. He quickly unlocked his own bike, and they sped off together without a word.

S
O MANY TIMES
the scene had played in his thoughts: How he had hugged her, stepped back, looked into her eyes, and reached for her hands, tenderly kissing her upturned palms. So many times he'd caressed those long fingers. He remembered the day he had placed that wedding band. It rolled more loosely now. Amazing what hard work and ten years could do to so young a body.

For six years it had been only the two of them. Even now, as he looked at his son playing with his cars in the sandbox, he felt the old fear rise in his chest. He studied his son and wondered: What are the others like? There must be more of them.

His son had come naturally, a difficult long birth in his opinion, but his wife managed well. Their combined pride and joy pushed his secret fear into the background. He would deal with it later.

"Can he go with you, Kurt?" she asked. Her eyes pleaded. He knew she needed rest, but today he must refuse them both. He stopped to watch his son play.

"Please, Daddy. I go too. Okay?"

"Not today, son. Come here, big boy. Give your daddy a hug." The small child ran to his father, stepped onto the front of his brown leather shoes, and grabbed his powerful long legs as they walked him around in a circle like a wooden soldier. Then the boy reached up to be held high in his arms, gave him a hug, and wiggled free to return to his play.

The father's spirit was heavy. As he walked away, he realized she must be watching and noticing the ease with which he moved. She had commented on the subtle changes in his voice, the thickening of his hair, the thinning of his belly. He credited all of it to his new passion for weightlifting, but he knew better.

His heart ached as he slipped behind the wheel of the newer car. He would leave the old one in the garage, although he didn't want to. There could be no suspicion of premeditation.

"Later" had come. It was the time he had always dreaded.

* * *

After the deed was done, he had misgivings. Was the fake car wreck necessary? Could there have been another way? He had broken their gravest law. He could not stay where he was any longer and endanger the entire community. He would make amends with them, and then convince her to follow. There must be a way to intertwine their lives.

He read in the paper that there had been a memorial. She had grieved. He'd agonized about putting her through that, but it had to be real. Six months passed before the job offer surfaced at her door. She couldn't refuse; he knew she needed the income. Everything fell into place, an affordable home, kind neighbors, and the chance to work as she had done before the boy was born. So she moved.

T
HEY PEDALED FRANTICALLY
up the side street behind the store, no looking back. Sammy pressed on, calling to John, insisting that he hang close. Fear was knotting his belly. All he wanted to do was put distance between them and Walt. When they neared the intersection, they could hear a vehicle slowing for the light behind them. It was Walt with AnLillie.

The boys turned their bikes sharply and dodged into the corner laurel hedge. From their hiding place they could easily see them approaching. AnLillie seemed to be directing Walt.

Sammy realized how pitiful this would appear to onlookers: two frightened boys, hiding in the bushes, making a desperate attempt to evade an old man and a petite young girl.

The sinister pair drove unwittingly closer to their prey. They stopped at the stop sign, yards away from the boys' hiding place. Walt glanced both ways, to the right beyond the hedge and left across the road.

Sammy and John froze, hoping to blend into the leafy shadows surrounding them. Walt and AnLillie appeared to notice nothing unusual, as if looking for cross traffic was their only concern. They were laughing: a happy, animated conversation bubbled from the car window. The car eased through the intersection and continued down the street.

"They're not even looking for us," John whispered. "They're acting like nothing happened."

"Maybe they're used to people running out on them," Sammy said.

"Let's give it up, Sammy. It's not worth it."

"No, wait." Sammy grabbed John's handlebars. "At the store, I saw that look in Walt's eyes, the same weird look he had the morning in the woods. Something isn't right, and I want to know what it is."

After allowing several minutes to pass, the boys continued their ride home. John's house was the closest. They stopped for a cold drink and to tell John's mom they were going to Sammy's house. John's house was alive with young neighbor kids and siblings. They needed a quiet place to talk.

When they reached the solitude of his bedroom, Sammy recalled the frightening scene in the forest. What a feeble explanation Walt had given. Neither boy had ever believed it.

"We have to go back, John," Sammy insisted.

"You mean back to the Colony?"

"Yes." Sammy plopped himself onto the bed.