Words Get In the Way (5 page)

She ran into the kitchen and down the stairs to the basement. Her voice was strained. “Henry, are you hiding on me?” But there was no sign of him anywhere. Callie flew back up the stairs and realized the screen door was open. She clearly remembered clicking the little metal lever down and pushing on the door to make sure it held. But now it wasn’t even latched, and the breeze blew it open and closed. “Henry, where are you?” she shouted.

She pushed open the door and shouted his name. She looked in the garage, her car, her dad’s truck, all around the house, and then she ran down the driveway to the road, but there was still no sign of him. She was absolutely beside herself as she hurried down the road. She stopped at the intersection with the town road and then backtracked past her parents’ house and up the hill, feeling as if she had been swept into a terrible dream. She kept picturing the way Henry furrowed his brow fretfully when he was concentrating ... and then she was overwhelmed by the terrifying thought that she would never see that look again. A sickening wave of nausea swept over her. “Oh, God, please let me find him,” she pleaded. “I’ll do anything. Just let me find him.” She looked up at the sky and begged, “Please, if you just show me where he is, I promise I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.” She paused to listen, certain that God would answer such a selfless prayer, but all she heard were songbirds, chirping and fluttering in the bushes, their seemingly cheerful indifference only adding to her agony. Finally, she pulled herself up, clenched her fists, and loudly commanded, “Henry! Answer me!”

8

L
inden was still in a bit of a funk when he pulled into the yard. Kat and Springer were happily oblivious to his mood, though, and greeted him with sloppy tennis balls entrenched in their mouths. At first, Linden shook his head. “Not now.” But the dogs persisted, following him around and dropping their soggy treasures at his feet. Finally, he relented, picked up both balls, and threw them as far as he could. The dogs raced away and returned moments later, happily wagging their tails and nudging their tennis balls toward his feet. Linden continued to throw the balls until the dogs’ tongues were dragging on the ground. “Okay, that’s enough,” he said, turning on the hose. Kat wagged her tail and slurped and snorted at the cold stream while Springer danced around, barking and chomping at it. Linden turned off the water and headed around the corner of the cabin. The dogs stood still, watching curiously, and then rounded up their tennis balls and bounded after him, grinning from ear to floppy ear. As they neared the river, the dogs plunged headfirst into the cold water, and Linden, laughing at their unabashed enthusiasm, pulled off his shirt, and joined them.

A while later he emerged, refreshed, from a deep swimming hole and sloshed up through the shallow current, looking down into the clear water as it rushed playfully over the smooth stones sparkling in the afternoon sun. Linden shook the beads of water from his hair, reached into a small pool lined with river rocks, and pulled the last icy bottle out from its depths; he also made a mental note that the natural cooler needed restocking
again
.

All of the riverbank amenities were already in place when Linden moved in: a fire pit with a small stack of seasoned wood, two weathered Adirondack chairs, a rusty bottle opener hanging from a nail under the arm of one of the chairs, and a welcoming six-pack chilling in the river. Linden had replenished the supply of beer more times than he could count.

He opened the bottle, took a long drink, and studied the large pile of stones in the middle of the river. He stepped back into the water and walked out to it. He set his bottle on a nearby rock and, with the clear, cold water swirling around his calves, began gathering large, smooth stones from the river bottom and placing them one on top of one another on the pile. As the afternoon slipped by, a massive stone cairn rose from the river, and the laughing, carefree current swirled and rippled around the man-made obstacle, searching for a new course to follow. The lyrics of an old hymn ran through Linden’s mind as he worked.
“Here I raise mine Ebenezer; hither by thy help I’m come; and I hope, by thy good pleasure, safely to arrive at home.”

9

“
H
enry!” Callie called frantically as she ran through the woods. Her shirt was torn and spattered with mud, and her arms and legs were covered with scratches from the unforgiving briars that ripped at her skin. “Oh, Henry, where are you?” she shouted as she retraced her steps toward the road. She knew she needed help; she should go back to the house and call for help, but then she remembered the phone was still out of order. She hurried on until she finally reached the dirt road again and looked toward the house.
Maybe he went back
. Then she looked up the hill.
Maybe he’s just over the hill. If I go a little farther, maybe he’s there
. She pushed herself to climb to the top of the grade, and then, she stared in disbelief. A small figure was running down the old woods road.

“Henry!” Callie cried. The figure stopped, looked up, and then continued to run. Callie raced down the hill, almost tripping several times before finally scooping him into her arms. She collapsed in an exhausted heap in the middle of the dirt road with thankful tears spilling down her cheeks. She buried her face in his sun-swept hair and breathed in his musky little boy scent mixed with the sweet scent of Johnson’s baby shampoo. Innocently unaware, Henry just sat on her lap and lightly traced his finger over the dried blood and scratches that crisscrossed her arms and legs.

When they got back to the house, Callie set him on the counter in the bathroom, washed his face and arms with a cool washcloth, gave him another long hug, and finally let him go. She watched him wander into the living room, completely unaware of the trauma he’d caused. She latched the door again. In the morning, the first thing they’d be doing would be going to Belletetes for eyehooks. It was obvious that telling Henry not to leave the house was not enough. In fact, if the hardware store weren’t closed for the holiday, they’d already be on their way.

That night, Callie made scrambled eggs and toast for supper again. She was thankful Henry wasn’t a fussy eater. By the time she’d cleaned up the kitchen, given him a quick bath, and helped him into his pajamas, the sun was slipping from the summer sky. She had wanted to visit her dad that day, but they’d never gotten the chance. It was still light enough, though, to nestle together on the back porch and read one of Henry’s favorite books. She’d found
Goodnight Moon
in a moving box full of towels but still had no idea how it had gotten there. They had read the little book so many times in the last two years that she didn’t even need to look at the words anymore; she knew them all by heart. And Henry, for his part, never tired of hearing the story; he just waited for the pages to be turned so he could point triumphantly at the little mouse. Sometimes, Callie even thought she saw him smiling. For Henry, it was a new story and an old friend every time.

She lifted him up onto her lap, opened the book, and began, but her words were immediately interrupted by a popping sound somewhere in the distance. Henry looked up, frowning, and pointed. “It’s nothing,” Callie assured him, “just firecrackers.” She turned back to the book, but she was interrupted again. This time, she looked up at the sky and wondered if the Connors were having their Fourth of July party. She quickly pushed the thought away, wrapped her arms around Henry, and tried to refocus on the book, and the life she’d chosen.

10

L
inden came in from doing chores, grabbed a cold Molson from the fridge, and headed straight for the shower. He turned on the water, glanced at the clock, and wondered how it had gotten so late. He washed quickly and then leaned back and let the water drench his head and cool his sunburned shoulders. He thought about the day and wondered why he couldn’t seem to get Callie off his mind; it was almost as if the possibility that she had come home had released a floodgate of memories. As the water rinsed the soap away, he closed his eyes and thought back to a hazy summer evening, years earlier, when Callie had stopped by on her way home from work.

She had been sandy and sunburned from lifeguarding all day, and her hair had seemed to have a mind of its own in the humidity. She’d leaned against her Nova, watching him wash his truck while they talked about what they should do that night. She’d said she just wanted to go home and take a shower, and Linden had held up the hose and teased, “Take off your suit.” She’d rolled her eyes and he’d grinned. “Seriously, you
could
just shower here.”

“Hmmm ... I’m sure your parents would love that.”

“They’re in Boston.”

“I know, silly, but don’t you think they’d frown on me taking a shower when
you
are the only one home?”

Linden had turned off the hose and stood in front of her. “Why?” he’d teased. “What could happen?”

“Well, for starters, their seemingly innocent son might try to seduce his girlfriend ...
again!
”

“Hmmm, has he done that before?” he’d murmured, kissing her neck.

Callie had leaned back against the car and closed her eyes. “Well, not successfully,” she’d said softly. “But you know that old saying, ‘If at first ...’ ”

“I think I know the one,” he’d whispered, slipping his hands under her shirt onto the silky, taut material of her bathing suit. His hands had glided smoothly up along the curve of her body. “Hmmm,” he’d teased, “what’s goin’ on here?”

“I wonder,” she’d replied. “Maybe the same thing that’s goin’ on down here,” she’d whispered, pressing against him.

Linden opened his eyes and sipped his beer. It was late and he needed to get going, but the memory of Callie’s body pressed against him had aroused more than his mind. He closed his eyes, leaned back, and let the water rush over his body.

An hour later, Linden parked his truck out on the road and walked toward the Connors’ brightly lit house. He could hear laughter coming from the backyard and splashing from the pool. He hesitated, wondering if it was too late to turn around and head home. But as he stood in the driveway, considering, a familiar voice called mockingly, “Well, well, can it be?” and Linden knew it was already too late. He peered into the shadows, trying to make out a face, but all he could see was the orange glow of a cigarette. As he drew closer, a fragrant cloud drifted from the garage, and he realized it wasn’t a cigarette.

Josh Connor stepped to the edge of the light, wearing a faded black Grateful Dead T-shirt, holding his breath, and grinning sheepishly. He held out his joint, but Linden just held up his hand and shook his head.

“You’ll never change, will you, Josh?” he surmised with a wry smile.

Josh shrugged his shoulders, exhaled slowly, and sputtered, “Why change?” The two former classmates shook hands, and Josh pulled a bottle of Coors from a nearby cooler, twisted off the top, and handed it to Linden. While they were talking, two girls came around the corner of the garage, giggling and sipping a concoction that smelled strongly of tequila. They were both tan, barefoot, and wearing very short cutoffs and bikini tops.

“Hey, Josh,” the slender redhead scolded, “I thought you were goin’ to share ...” She stopped and smiled politely when she saw that there was someone in the garage with her brother and then she realized who it was. “Oh, my God! Linden! You came!” She hugged him with such unabashed enthusiasm that she accidently spilled her drink. “I can’t believe it!” she exclaimed. Linden just smiled;
he
couldn’t believe how grown-up Katie had become.

“C’mon,” she said as she slipped her hand into Linden’s and pulled him toward the door. “Come say hi to my parents.” Katie’s friend, however, opted to hang out in the shadows with Josh, claiming she just loved Billy Joel and wanted to listen to “I’ve Loved These Days,” which was playing on the radio.

“She
really
just loves Josh,” Katie confided in a whisper, “
and
getting high!”

Mr. Connor was flipping burgers when they came around the corner of the house. “Well, well, here’s the mastah wahl buildah!” he exclaimed happily. “Hope yah brought your ap-pahtite!”

Mrs. Connor gave Linden a warm hug and then proceeded to heap macaroni salad, potato salad, Jell-O salad, two deviled eggs, and baked beans on a plate for him so that, by the time Mr. Connor offered him a cheeseburger, there was no room for it. Linden made a gallant effort, though, and tucked his beer bottle against his chest so he could balance the full plate in one hand and take the cheeseburger in the other. He smiled helplessly at Katie, and she immediately saw his dilemma. Laughing, she took the beer from under his arm, put it on the table, and pulled out a chair for him. Then she went to ask Jon if he would make a fresh margarita for her. Linden watched her go and saw Jon eyeing her suspiciously. From Katie’s gestures he could tell she was having trouble convincing him that she had really spilled her drink. Jon looked at Linden, held up Katie’s cup, and pointed at it with raised eyebrows. Linden wasn’t sure if he was asking for confirmation that she was telling the truth or asking him if he wanted one too, so he just shook his head and pointed to his beer. Jon nodded and retreated into the house while Katie came back over to the table, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know why he doesn’t believe me!”

“Have you eaten?” Linden asked, swallowing a deviled egg in one gulp.

“I’ve been picking,” she replied.

“Well, if you’re gonna drink that evil stuff, you should eat.”

She eyed him. “What, do I have three big brothers now?”

Linden smiled. “You always have.”

Katie grinned mischievously. “But I’ve
always
wanted so much more!”

“Hmmm,” he replied, studying her eyes. “How much
have
you had?”

“Not enough,” she said, laughing and reaching to take the replenished cup her brother was holding out.