River's End (9781426761140) (14 page)

Anna jumped to hear the phone ringing. Lauren was still in the dining room downstairs, and Anna hurried to answer, hoping it would be Clark calling from town to say that they'd found Sarah and would soon be home. Instead, it was a strange man's voice. “Is this the inn down the river?” he asked in a slightly grumpy tone.

“Yes. This is actually our home line,” Anna explained. “Were you calling for reservations or—”

“No, I'm calling because I think one of your boats is tied to my dock.”

“A small fishing boat?”

“Yeah. And the name of the inn is on it. The one at the old Larson place, right? Where the store used to be?”

“Yes,” Anna said eagerly. “Did you by any chance see a young girl with the boat?”

“You mean you've lost a kid?”

“Well, she's not a child.” Now Anna described Sarah.

“Haven't seen anyone 'round here fitting that description. But you can come get your boat whenever you want.”

“Of course, we'll come get it as soon as possible. Where are you located?”

“The Johnson place out past Mapleton, beyond the bridge, on the south side of the river.” He described the house and dock to her.

“I didn't even think to go that far when I was searching for it,” she admitted.

“You think your lost girl is 'round here somewhere?” he asked. “You know the highway runs right behind my place. She might've hitched a ride up there.”

“That's possible,” she said sadly.

“Kids these days . . . never know what they'll do next.”

“Someone will come down for the boat.” She looked out the window to see it was already getting dusky. “Probably in the morning if that's all right. Thank you for calling.”

“No problem. That's how people on the river used to live, looking out for one another. Not like these newcomers or part-timers who just come and go, without so much as a howdy-do.”

She felt slightly insulted by his tone, as if he assumed she was a newcomer too. “I grew up on the river too,” she told him. “My parents ran the store here when I was a child.”

“You're Anna Larson?” he asked.

“Well, I'm Anna Richards now. Do I know you?”

“I was a little older than you in school. Johnny Johnson. Remember the big kid with the red hair and freckles? I played football.”

“Yes,” she told him. “I do recall you. You still live on the river?”

“Well, I left home to serve in the Pacific, and after that I lived in California. My parents passed on a few years back, and I decided to move back to their place. But everything's changed 'round here. Well, everything but the river.”

“Yes, thank goodness for the river.” She made a bit more small talk with him then, worried that Clark might try to call, she cut it short. “Feel free to stop by the inn sometime,” she told him. “For old time's sake.”

She put down the receiver and began to pace. So Sarah had made it to the Johnson place, tied up the boat, and then she'd probably gone up to the road to get a ride. Of course, that made perfect sense. She went right past Mapleton and avoided being noticed. Anna wondered how long ago Sarah had left . . . how far she'd gotten by now.

Anna went to Sarah's room and looked around. Sarah was obviously traveling light. The only thing that Anna could tell was missing was that old patchwork dress. Although it was possible that Sarah had taken a few other items of clothing as well, but most of her things still seemed to be in her closet and drawers. And Anna knew Sarah had no money since she hadn't been paid yet. How did Sarah expect to get anywhere without money? Even if she managed to get rides, what would she eat? Where would she stay?

Furthermore, why did she do it like this? Why couldn't Sarah have come to Anna, told her she was unhappy and wanted to leave? Why did Sarah feel the need to run away like
that? To scare them all half to death? Anna shook her head and turned off the light. It was just too aggravating to think about.

As she went into the living room, turning the lights on in there, she remembered that poor Clark was out there right now, possibly still out on the ocean, maybe even risking life and limb, as he searched for Sarah. Off on a fool's errand—and Anna had sent him on it! Anna went to the phone, wishing there was some way to get word to him. To tell him to come back to her and forget about the senseless search. She even considered calling the coast guard but could just imagine Clark's reaction to that. No, she knew that all she could do was wait . . . and pray.

As she waited, she busied herself with straightening the kitchen. Lauren had made a big batch of cookies for tomorrow's lunch menu but hadn't had time to clean it up yet. Anna welcomed the busywork. Anything to keep her mind off Clark out there in the ocean as it grew dark. What if something happened to him? Not only would she blame herself, but also she would miss him more than she cared to think about. With all this focus on her daughter and granddaughter recently, Anna knew that Clark had probably been neglected. Not that he complained. Clark was not a complainer. But if something happened to him . . . if she lost him . . . because she'd sent him on this fool's errand—

“Mom,” called Lauren as she came into the house. “Are you in here?”

“In the kitchen,” Anna called back in a tired voice.

“Clark's not back yet.”

Anna wiped her hands dry on the dishtowel then sighed. “No . . .” Now she told Lauren about Johnny Johnson's phone call and the skiff.

“Do you want me to go down and get it?” Lauren offered.

“No. It can wait until morning.”

“And Sarah is gone then?”

Anna shrugged, carefully hanging the towel on the stove handle. “It would seem so.”

“Maybe it's just as well,” Lauren said a bit bitterly.

“Oh, Lauren.” Anna shook her head. “Don't say that. She's just a child. She should be here . . . with us.”

Now Lauren began to cry. “I'm sorry,” she said. “But I just don't understand her. I mean I realize I was a spoiled brat at her age. But I don't think I would've done anything like that. Not to you, Mom.”

Anna had to bite her tongue now. Of course, Lauren couldn't remember all that she'd put Anna through during her young adulthood. Clark, too, for that matter—and he was only a stepfather. But youth, similar to old age, could impair the memory. Anna was certain of it. In fact, Anna knew that she'd put her own parents through their own sort of grief when she'd eloped with Adam and moved away from the river to live with him. Oh, she'd tried to protect them in her letters, but she suspected that they'd read between the lines. And then . . . Anna hated to remember this . . . she had rarely come home to visit. How that must've hurt them.

“We all do things we regret,” she said quietly to Lauren, “when we are young and foolish. When we're older, we realize that we have to forgive our children in the same way our parents forgave us. And likewise, we often have to forgive our parents too. It's as constant as the river, Lauren.”

Lauren looked unconvinced. “Well, I suppose I should go. Unless you want me to stay here to wait with you for Clark.”

“No.” Anna shook her head. “Clark will be fine. You know he often comes home late from an all-day fishing trip.”

“Except that he hasn't been fishing.”

Anna shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he did some fishing out there.”

“Oh, Mom.” Lauren rolled her eyes.

“Go on home,” Anna told her. “I'll call you if anything is amiss. And tomorrow will be another long day. Come on, I'll walk you to the dock. And I'll bet Clark will be rolling in.”

However, Clark's boat was nowhere in sight as Anna waved good-bye to Lauren. Even so, Anna decided to stay down there, checking in some of the boats and hanging up life preservers . . . doing the chores that Clark usually did. Finally, worried that he might be trying to reach her in the house, she decided to go inside. It seemed very likely that he might've stopped by the hospital to pay his mother one more visit before coming home.

Tempted to call and ask, Anna looked at the clock to see that it was well past nine and beyond visiting hours now. Pacing back and forth in her living room, Anna wondered when she'd ever felt this frightened and lonely. Perhaps back when her mother had died and she'd come home to figure out her life and start over. But since that dark day, she'd been so busy with the inn, so occupied with family and friends . . . and Clark . . . that she'd barely had a moment to be lonely. But what if something happened to Clark? What if she lost him? She couldn't bear to think of it.

It was nearly midnight, and she was just seconds from calling the coast guard when she saw the lights of his boat coming down the river. Grabbing her jacket, she raced down to the dock to meet him. Not even waiting for him to tie up, she jumped onto the boat, throwing her arms around him and nearly knocking him over. “Oh, Clark!” she sobbed into his chest. “I've been so worried.”

He stroked her hair. “I'm sorry,” he said, “I looked and looked, but I couldn't find her anywhere. I really wanted to bring her back to—”

“I'm not worried about Sarah,” she explained as she grabbed the rope, jumped out, and secured the boat. “About you.”

He gathered some things then climbed out, pulling her close to him again. “Don't waste your worries on me, Anna.”

“But it was so late . . . you were out there all alone . . . I never should've asked you to do that, Clark. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

They started walking up to the house, and he explained how he'd looked up and down the coastline, using his binoculars in hopes of spotting the skiff along the beach. “And wouldn't you know it.” He shook his head. “Just when I was ready to call it a day—right around sunset—I realized I was nearly out of gas.”

“Oh, Clark.”

“So I thought about radioing for help, but that's embarrassing. So I realized I probably could make it if I waited for the tide to turn and let the incoming high tide help carry me through the jetty.” He paused to open the door for them.

“But that is so dangerous.” She stared at him in shock.

He nodded. “And foolish. I was actually starting to question it myself. Can you imagine what it would be like to be midway through the bar and lose power?”

“Your boat would probably be smashed to bits.”

“Plus the tide wasn't going to change until midnight.”

“I was about to call the coast guard,” she admitted.

He grinned. “As it turned out the coast guard cutter was out there practicing night maneuvers and those good ol' boys came to check on me.”

“And they helped you home?”

He nodded sheepishly. “I'll admit it was embarrassing. But I was hugely relieved.”

“Oh, my.” She put some of Lauren's cookies on a plate and poured him a cup of slightly stale coffee, sweetening it up with cream and sugar.

“I told them about our missing granddaughter,” he explained, “and they were quite understanding.”

Now Anna told him about the phone call from Johnny Johnson. “So my guess is she went up to the road behind his house and got a ride.”

“Oh . . .” Clark sighed.

“I feel so terrible that you went out there like that,” Anna said contritely, “that I encouraged you to put yourself in harm's way . . . for nothing.”

“We didn't know it at the time.” He locked eyes with her. “And Sarah isn't nothing, Anna. You and I both know that.”

“Too bad she doesn't know it.”

“She does know it,” he said quietly, “deep inside of herself, she must know it. Sarah is a good girl. And she's spent enough time here on the river and enough time with you to know who she is, Anna. She might be confused right now, but you know who she is . . . and you'll never give up on her.”

Feeling gently chastened as well as comforted, Anna simply nodded. “You're right. Absolutely right.”

After a restless night filled with frustrating dreams about Sarah, Anna rose early and dressed quietly. Taking time to leave Clark a note, she then slipped outside and down to the dock where she started her boat's engine and slowly eased the craft out into the main current. Keeping the engine's noise low, she headed upriver, where the sun was just coming up. It didn't take long to see she wasn't the only one out this early.

Steering away from fishermen, she slowly chugged upriver toward Mapleton and the Johnson place where she planned to pick up the abandoned skiff and tow it home. Clark had offered to do this, but she could tell by how hard he was sleeping that he was worn out from yesterday's ocean expedition. Besides with another clear sunny day, there would be guests anxious to get out and enjoy the river. He would be needed at the boathouse.

Anna continued past Mapleton, realizing that she rarely came this far up the river, although she did remember coming with her father to make deliveries a few times. She spotted the rickety-looking dock Johnny had described, and there, along with a wooden rowboat, was the skiff. She tied up her boat then got out to tend to the skiff and was just securing it to the
back of her boat, when she noticed what looked like a piece of paper beneath one of the floating boat cushions. Curious, she climbed into the little boat and removed a small white envelope that said
To Grandma
on the front.

She sat down on the vinyl cushion now, feeling a lump growing in her throat as the small boat rocked from side to side in the water. She took in a deep breath as she ran a finger over the blue ink of Sarah's neat penmanship then slowly opened the envelope.

Dear Grandma,

I know you are probably mad at me by now. You should be. As hard as it is to admit this, I realize I don't belong with you on the river anymore. Even Lauren, as much as I hate her, has more right to be there than I do. Like you said, my bitterness is poison, and I can see that it's poisoning everyone. I've been told again and again that I have badness in me. I know it's true. And I know it will take more hard work, self-denial, and penance to remove it. That is what I'm going to try to do. I'm sorry that I hurt you, Grandma. You have always been good to me. You do not deserve such a worthless granddaughter.