Flickering Hope (9 page)

T
he sanctuary smelled like lemon wood-polish, perfume, and throat lozenges, so different from the Catholic church downtown, which smelled of wax, dust, and incense. The Catholic church made me want to nestle quietly on a pew or light a candle. This church, with its bright overhead lights and cheerful noise of mingled voices, made me feel I should strike up a conversation with everyone near me. Since I only attended youth group and not regular Sunday service, I rarely came into this sanctuary. But I had been Ruth’s friend long enough to meet the church regulars.

Tonight everyone was bundled in coats and scarves, ready to head out to Hiawatha to sing door-to-door. I had
never gone caroling or been visited by carolers. “What will they sing?” I asked Ruth.

She pointed to the song books. “They take books out, because most people only know the first verse of Christmas carols.”

“I’m not sure I even know the first verses,” I said.

“You girls sure you don’t want to come?” Ruth’s dad asked.

I actually did want to go, but I wasn’t sure if that was yet another form of procrastination. I really didn’t want to have to talk to Doug about the family in the woods.

Doug appeared through a side door, and as if he read my mind, he said, “May we join you caroling after we meet? If that’s okay with you girls, that is.”

Ruth looked at me, and I smiled. “I’ve never been caroling before, but it sounds kind of fun.”

Ruth’s dad beamed. “I’ll bring my cell so you can find us.”

The carolers gathered together as Ruth and I followed Doug into his office. Actually it was more like a walk-in closet with three desks and chairs where Penny, Ben, and Doug all worked together. A rat’s nest of cables covered Ben’s desk. Penny’s desk held a wild assortment of random items— hair spray, balloons, glow sticks, and a rubber chicken.

Doug’s desk held stacks of papers, organized into piles. He sat on his desk with his foot on his chair. “Have a seat, ladies. Don’t mention the rubber chicken. Penny will blow her top if I ruin her surprise.”

“What’s the chicken for?” I couldn’t help asking.

Doug held his hands up in resistance. “I can’t tell. I’ve promised on a double-decker ice cream sundae. As in I will give it up if I spill the beans. So it’s not happening.”

“Did the research group find a family?” I asked.

“We keep running into dead ends. One suggestion was actually someone from youth group, but the person didn’t want everyone to know about his family situation. Which I certainly respect. And a few families in church have deep need, but don’t have children. The research group feels strongly that we should choose a family with kids, and I agree.”

Ruth nearly bounced in her seat with excitement. “Do you want to tell him, or should I?”

I laced and unlaced my fingers together, again and again. I didn’t know which I was more worried about—the danger to Patch or Andrew’s anger.

“Sadie, what’s wrong?” Doug asked.

Now that we were here, I’d have to tell one way or another, and somehow I had to make Doug understand about Patch. I let out a sigh and began. “Patch is a research bear that almost got killed last hunting season. She finally chose a den a couple miles from the research cabin. We were all relieved because she denned on vacant land.”

“It’s for sale,” Ruth said.

“We’ve snowshoed out past Patch’s den every week or so,” I continued, “to make sure no one has found the den. Helen has hiked out there mostly.”

“But on Thanksgiving, Sadie, Andrew, and I did the hike,” Ruth said. “And we were followed by a little girl.”
Ruth pushed her hair behind her ears, getting into the story. “We found out this girl lives with her mom and dad and baby sister in an abandoned cabin in the woods.”

“Old Man Mueller’s shack,” I said.

“I’ve been out to that shack in the summer,” Doug said. “But that’s no place for a family in the winter.”

I nodded. “Helen, Dad, and Meredith hiked out there and spoke to the family. Someone is buying the land and giving them the shack, which is all fixed up inside. But the story doesn’t make sense. And we think they are looking for Patch, for some reason. If they find her …”

“I can see why you’re worried, Sadie.” Doug tapped a pen against his leg, thinking.

“Don’t you think they are the perfect family, though?” Ruth leaned forward. “I mean, who needs Christmas more than a family in a shack in the middle of the woods?”

“I’ll call Helen,” Doug said. “Then I’ll hike out there with Penny. We’ll check it out and go from there.”

“But you won’t let everyone from youth group go out to the cabin, will you?” I asked. “Patch and her cubs — “

“Her den is far enough away from the shack,” Ruth said. “At least a ten minute hike.”

Doug set his pen down. “As far as bears go, Sadie’s right. Our whole youth group that close to a bear’s den could be too much. Someone could wander by the den, or possibly even find it. The noise alone of all those people might cause Patch to come out of her den looking for intruders. Bears shouldn’t be roused in the middle of their sleep.”

“She wouldn’t attack,” I said, hoping Doug understood my concerns.

“No, I know that. I’ve seen Patch eat out of Mrs. Rose’s hand. I know Patch,” Doug said.

Ruth glanced first at Doug, and then at me, frustration clear on her face. “But how will we bring them Christmas if we don’t go out there? It’s not enough of an impression if just one or two of us goes. It won’t be good enough.”

“We’ll worry about good enough once we know the particulars. Okay, Ruth?” Doug looked her in the eyes. “I know you want to give a beautiful Christmas to a family.” He turned to me. “And I know you do too, Sadie, but I also understand your concerns. We’ll figure this out. I promise. Now, what do you girls say we grab a few song books and head out?”

Ruth and I put on gloves, scarves, coats, and hats and climbed into Doug’s SUV. The carolers had traveled to west Hiawatha, a neighborhood known for Christmas lights. Doug parked outside the subdivision, and we hiked in, following our ears more than our eyes. Before we could see the crowd, we heard their voices, harmonizing in four parts, singing “Angels We Have Heard on High.” Lights sparkled against the snow, lighting up the night, and the acapella music was so rich that as we approached, I could almost imagine angels singing instead of a group from church.

We rounded the corner of a house and saw the carolers standing beside a picket fence, the owners of three or four houses listening from their porches on either side of the street.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Doug asked.

I nodded, tracing the scene in my mind, memorizing the arcs of light gleaming off the faces of the singers. “Let’s go!” Ruth said.

We ran over and searched through song book pages. When I found the right page, I ran my finger under the words so I wouldn’t get lost, all the way up to the Glorias. Then I closed the book, closed my eyes, and let my voice sail up on the slip-stream of music, thick and textured like the waves in Van Gogh’s
Starry Night.
In the silence after the song, I opened my eyes.

“You’re glowing,” Ruth whispered.

I grinned back at her. “So are you.”

D
ad pulled into the lot behind the library and left the engine running.

“Five minutes, I promise.” I walked fast so I couldn’t change my mind.

“Morning,” the librarian said.

I stomped snow off my boots and unwound my scarf. “Good morning. Is Frankie here?”

“Over there.” The librarian nodded toward the back table.

Andrew was going to kill me.

I walked past the stacks to the table. Frankie must have heard me, because she waited, pencil poised above her paper, like she’d paused in the middle of a thought. For a second, I stopped, wanting to draw her just like that, waiting. Frankie never waited. She did things, made things happen.

Now, with her head tilted just slightly, her eyebrows drawn together in the hint of a question, she looked like a painting of herself, done by a painter who didn’t really know Frankie, who had caught her in an odd moment and made her into someone she wasn’t.

“Want to come to the research cabin?” I asked. “We’re breaking glass today.”

Frankie grabbed her bag and shoved her stuff inside. “Absolutely.”

I rewrapped my scarf as Frankie bundled up. Neither of us spoke on the way to the Jeep. The silence was almost as brittle as the freezing air, until Frankie pulled open the car door.

She climbed in the back. “Hi, Mr. Douglas.”

“No one calls me Mr. Douglas in this car. Matthew’s just fine, Frankie.”

Dad knew Frankie from the community meetings, and of course, he’d heard plenty about her from me. I wondered what he thought of her suddenly appearing now, coming out to the research cabin. I hadn’t asked permission, but to be honest, I didn’t want permission. In fact, I didn’t even want Frankie around. Still, something compelled me to invite her, wouldn’t let me avoid inviting her, the way I couldn’t have ignored the jingle bells on December first even if I tried. Maybe Doug would say this was God leading me. Certainly, I was as illogical and determined about this as Ruth had been about talking to Doug.

“Sure, okay.” Frankie pulled her bag into her lap and hugged it close.

“Frankie is going to help us break glass for the ornaments,” I told Dad.

“I still don’t understand what these ornaments are going to look like,” Dad admitted.

I launched into an explanation of the broken glass, the tumblers, the assembly of shapes such as angels and trees and stars, and the firing in the kiln. I didn’t stop to take a breath, didn’t stop to let anyone comment. I couldn’t. The closer we got to the cabin, the more nervous and talkative I became. Andrew would never understand.

Ruth and Andrew ran out to meet the car, and both stopped as Frankie opened her door.

“Hi,” Frankie said.

Andrew opened his mouth, but closed it.

“You kids have fun,” Dad said. “I’ll be back in two hours unless you call me.”

I said goodbye and watched him drive away, and I had to fight the urge to run after him and leave. Instead, I turned back to Andrew and launched back into nervous-talking mode. “Andrew, this is Frankie.”

“We’ve met,” he said, his voice almost a growl.

“Right. I knew that, sorry. She wanted to help break the glass. Is everything ready?”

“We were about to grab bags to put the glass into,” Ruth said. “From the kitchen.”

Frankie fell into step with Ruth, but Andrew caught my arm as they went into the cabin.

“Are you crazy, Sadie?” Andrew asked. “Frankie can’t come out here. You know what her dad will do if they find Patch.”

My temper flared hot, probably because I agreed with him. “First of all, I don’t know what her dad will do if he finds Patch, and neither do you. And how in the world is being here at the cabin going to help Frankie find Patch? Patch is over an hour away from here.”

“I don’t know, Sadie. Maybe the bear map in the cabin?”

The map on Helen’s study wall, I hadn’t even thought about it. It showed the dens of each of the bears.

“She won’t go into your mom’s study …”

“My point is, the cabin isn’t set up for secrecy, Sadie. We don’t need the enemy here.”

“I don’t know if Frankie is the enemy anymore,” I said, getting angry.

“No?” Andrew ran his hands through his hair. “The kind of people who are friends with Frankie aren’t the kind of people who are friends with me. You can’t be both kinds, Sadie.”

“What are you saying?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

Andrew’s voice softened, but he didn’t sound sorry. He sounded resigned. “It’s just the truth.”

I would choose Andrew over Frankie any day. Didn’t he know that? But anyone, even Andrew, giving me an ultimatum like that made me fighting mad. My fists were so tight that my fingernails dug into my palms.

“Just try to be nice,” I said through gritted teeth.

Ruth and Frankie brought a box of garbage bags from the cabin, and we followed them into the garage.

“Double bag each bottle,” Ruth said. “Choose the pretty colors. We think we’ll be able to make ten ornaments from each bottle, so I guess we should break ten?”

“Maybe twelve to be safe,” I said. I chose a green glass bottle.

Andrew didn’t say anything as he brought over the hammer. Frankie put her bag in the waiting plastic garbage can, and Andrew started smashing. At first, the can slid all around, particularly since he swung the hammer like an enraged gorilla.

“Let me hold the can for you.” Frankie sat down and pinned the can between her knees.

“I’ll hurt you,” Andrew said, and for a moment, the question hung in my mind—was this a threat or a worry?

“Hit down toward the bottle, and the ground will absorb most of the impact. Just try it.” Frankie grabbed the can with her hands too.

Andrew swung and the glass crunched, but the can stayed firm.

Frankie smiled at him.

Andrew shrugged and swung a few more times, more gently than before. Then he handed the hammer to Frankie. “Your turn.”

We took turns hitting bottles until all twelve were shards in the bags.

Frankie looked up from the last bottle, out of breath from swinging again and again. “I kind of want to keep going. This is fun.”

“Strangely satisfying,” Ruth said.

“I know what you mean,” Frankie said.

They smiled at each other, a real smile. Maybe this was why I had felt so compelled to bring Frankie over to the cabin. Maybe God wanted … The thought stopped me short. How was I supposed to know what God wanted? All I knew was right now, Ruth and Frankie together, not just in the same room but breaking glass for the same reason, felt important. And I was proud to be part of it, no matter what Andrew said.

Andrew stayed quiet as we loaded the first bottle into the tumbler and went into the cabin for cookies and hot cocoa. Frankie wandered around the room, looking at the photos. Many of them were bears. Cubs in trees, bears scratching hollow logs for ants, bears facing off with each other, but some pictured Andrew with the bears, or Helen and her favorite bear, Humphrey.

“You aren’t scared?” Frankie asked him, standing in front of a picture of Andrew standing in the cabin’s front yard with four bears looking up at him. “Look at their claws.”

Andrew grunted instead of answering.

“I was scared,” I told Frankie. “When I first came to the cabin. Bears roamed the yard, ate from the feeders. I thought one of them would attack me. But I felt less scared the more I watched them.”

Shadows moved into her eyes, clouding out the Frankie of the past few hours and reminding me of the other Frankie. Maybe I had pushed too far. Just because we smashed a little
glass together didn’t mean she’d changed her mind on the bears.

“I don’t know,” I said. “They’re just a lot more peaceful than people think.”

“I know you all think I’m wrong and my dad’s wrong,” Frankie said, folding her arms and facing us like we were a jury to persuade. “But we’ve lived here a lot longer than any of you. Maybe by letting bears come so close, by feeding them out here, you’re making the problem worse. Bears should be afraid of people. They’re wild animals, not pets.”

“Why did you want to come out here?” Andrew burst out. “To lecture us? What did you think—you’d give your little speech and my mom would go away? I know that’s what your dad wants. For us and Sadie’s family to all go away and leave you alone.”

“I never said …” Frankie’s voice trailed off.

“You said plenty.” Andrew turned to me. “Don’t bring her out here again, Sadie.”

I listened to his footsteps as he went upstairs, down the hall, and into his room. When his door slammed shut, Helen looked out of her office.

“Everything all right?” she asked.

“Yes,” Ruth said.

Frankie stared at the floor, and I couldn’t have spoken if I had wanted to.