Randy moved around the interior, inspecting it from a distance, like he wasn’t sure he should touch things, either. His toe hit the bedpost, and Birdie woke up, then rolled over and stretched, her blue eyes moving in a drowsy zigzag. She studied me for a minute, and I could tell she remembered me from before. Beside me, Hay leaned close and said, “Hi, Birdie. Did you have a good sleep?”
She answered by pulling the sheet up under her chin bashfully, then smiling a little, her eyes twinkling like she wanted his attention. Apparently, Hay’s magic was still working on her. A cardinal jumped onto the windowsill, and Birdie smiled at Hay, sitting up and pointing at the bird. Pursing her lips, she did a pretty good imitation of the bird’s call. It was the first time I’d ever heard her voice.
The cardinal flew off, and Birdie noticed Randy there in the corner. Her smile straightened, and she checked to make sure her grandpa was near. Scooting out from under the sheet, she moved across the bed and stood next to Len, her fingers fisted over his shirttail and the stuffed raccoon, her face partly hidden behind dark hair and partly behind Len’s shirt, so that only one eye and a slice of frown showed.
She looked like a kid who knew that waking up with strangers in the room wasn’t good. Len settled a big hand over her hair and patted her, his touch gentle.
Randy moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to get on her level and look friendly, I guessed.
His gaze hung for a minute on a group of dust-covered pictures on the wall behind Birdie – black-and-whites of a man holding a team of plowing mules, a crackled wedding picture of a woman, a photo of Len dressed in his army uniform. Next to it was a faded silk banner with a star on it – the kind parents hang in their windows to tell the world they’ve got a son serving in the military.
I looked into the eyes of the young man in the photo, wondered what thoughts were in this mind right before the photographer snapped the picture. It was tough to tell. Mostly, he seemed determined . . . and real young, just a kid playing dress-up, the hat oversized, the chin so clean he probably only had to shave every third or fourth day. Seeing him now, it was hard to imagine Len like that. It didn’t seem like there was much of the bright-eyed young soldier inside the old man with the droopy mouth and the scarred-up ear, but he was there, I guessed. Len deserved more respect from folks than he got. Sometimes it was easy to look at where a man ended up in life and forget that he was once a boy, and he’d probably planned something better for himself.
I wondered if a guy as young as Randy could look at that picture on the wall and understand. Maybe he didn’t want to. When you’re young, you think you can go through the world like a steam locomotive on a straight track from here to there. You don’t realize that sooner or later you’ll run up against mountains you can’t climb and canyons you can’t get across. You’ll make detours and stop to build bridges, gain passengers and lose passengers, experience things you couldn’t have imagined. I doubted if Len had ever imagined that little girl who hung on his shirttail now.
Randy’s interview with Birdie didn’t take long, because Birdie didn’t want to talk. Just like every other time I’d been there, she watched with eyes that showed understanding, but she never said a word. I knew it probably wasn’t a point in Len’s favor, but there was nothing to be done about it. Finally, Randy put his pen away, told Len he’d be getting back in touch and they’d be trying to contact Birdie’s mother, and we left.
When we got back to the boat, the docksiders were still trolling around the river channel pretending to fish. They gave me the hawkeye as I loaded Randy and took him across the lake. When I looked back over my shoulder, I saw the docksiders catching up with Hay’s boat, so they could do a shakedown for the latest news.
Randy and I didn’t talk much on the way back to the Waterbird. Mostly, he seemed to be in a hurry, and at that point, so was I. The trip to Len’s had eaten up more time than I’d planned, and if I didn’t grab some lunch, take care of some things I had to do at my office, and hurry over to Andrea’s to pick up Dustin, I’d be late for the water safety class. Considering that I was supposed to deliver the opening spiel about water safety and I’d contributed about half the population of the class on citation deals, that’d be pretty embarrassing.
When we got to the Waterbird, Randy grabbed his stuff, stepped out of the boat before I had it tied up, and just about ended up in the water. “Thanks,” he said, after he got his feet under him. He stuck his hand out to shake mine. “And thanks for the assist today. This job sends me to some strange places, but that one takes the cake.” It was hard to guess what he was thinking about Len or what he planned to do.
“Listen,” I said. “It’s not my business to tell you your job, but be fair with Len, all right? I know he’s a different sort, and that place he lives in doesn’t look like much, but Len’s never given anybody any trouble. As far as I can see, he’s a man trying to make the best of what he’s got. I think he’s trying to do what’s best for that little girl, too.”
Randy seemed to get my point – as well as someone who hadn’t even hit thirty yet could, anyway. “I’ll be looking at the case and trying to track down information about the mother, and then we’ll see where we go from there.” He thanked me again, then headed up the hill, taking the steps two at a time.
I went into the Waterbird for a sandwich, hoping it’d be just Dorsey behind the counter, but of course Sheila was there, and she wanted the rundown on what’d happened with Len. I let her know I was in a hurry for my sandwich, and that Hay would be along after a while. As much as Hay liked to talk, he’d fill her in on the whole story.
Sheila wasn’t happy about getting the brush-off. “Where are you headed in such a hurry?” she asked as she was putting my usual sandwich together.
“Corps of Engineers has the water safety class at the community center at two. I’m helping with it.” I moved to the soda machine to fix myself a drink.
“Two?” Sheila glanced at the clock. “What’s your hurry?”
“Got some things to do at the office, and then I need to head across the lake and pick up Andrea’s son. She’s putting him in water safety instead of letting him take the citation. Good choice.”
“Andrea?”
“Henderson. Dustin’s mom.” I put a lid on my drink, then turned around and caught Sheila giving me the once-over. I realized about a half second too late that I should’ve kept my mouth shut.
“That’s nice of you.” She blinked with a one-sided grin as she handed me the sandwich.
“No big deal. She didn’t have a way to get him there.” I grabbed my stuff and headed for the door. “Put it on my tab, okay?”
“Sure, no problem.” Bracing her palms on the counter, she leaned forward and smiled. “Tell
Andrea
hello for me, when you see her.”
Every day is an open door to a new room.
– Anonymous tourist
Andrea Henderson
Dustin arrived home from his first day of water safety class in a good mood. He and Mart had gone by the Tin Building Theater to talk to Reverend Hay about the Christmas play, and Dustin seemed to be considering it. “Sydney and Ansley probably won’t leave me alone unless I do it, anyway. Their grandma goes to church up there, and they’re gonna come and help paint sets or something.” He rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of light in him this evening – a bit of the boy he’d been before the divorce. “Sydney and Ansley, like, bug me all the time. I can’t even work in the yard without them following me around. Today their grandma made them go inside, and they pulled the screen off their window and dive-bombed me with water balloons.” He huffed and tried to look disgusted. “There’s probably a law against that. It’s assault or something.”
“They like you,” I pointed out, trying not to smile since we were discussing a possible criminal offense.
“Whatever.” His yawn took the shape of a smile, which he quickly covered with several fingers.“I had to come inside and change clothes after they got done throwing stuff at me. I was soaking wet. I think we should call the FBI. They’re probably missing those two from juvie someplace.”
“Dustin!” I squealed, laughing. It felt good. I couldn’t remember the last time Dustin had cracked a joke.
“I’m serious,” he added, then turned away and headed for the shower.
After showers, we shared a late dinner at the counter in the kitchen. Dustin noticed the light flashing on the answering machine, and I caught his hopeful look as he pushed the button. When the message wasn’t from his father, his pleasant mood collapsed like a tower of dominoes. He didn’t want to talk about it, of course, and as usual, he secluded himself in his room and cranked up his music.
I returned the answering machine message – a call from Megan. She was busy trying to get the twins in bed. She invited us to go to Oswaldo’s company picnic in a couple weeks, and I jotted it on our calendar, trying to think positively about what the next few weeks might bring. Things were in such a state of flux right now, and two weeks was a long time in the life of a teenager. On the other hand, two weeks from now we’d be well into August, and there would be no denying that Dustin wouldn’t be spending the month with his father. Maybe if I packed some fun activities into the schedule, it would soften the blow.
I turned on the television and tried to concentrate on something positive. As daylight waned and darkness fell, then deepened, I found myself watching points of light travel over the lake. I wondered if one of those boats was Mart’s. I waited and hoped one would turn my way and drift up to the dock. The lights came, and passed, and came, and passed. Dustin fell asleep with his computer on and a movie playing. I went into his room and turned everything off, then covered him with a blanket.
My phone rang as I was closing his door and heading up the hall – Mart. The minute he flashed his lights by the dock, I was out the back door and running down the hill in the dark. I met him on the dock, and we sat talking. I revealed more than I’d meant to about my past history, and how I’d ended up divorced at thirty-eight and living in my parents’ lake house. Mart didn’t seem the least bit fazed by the load of baggage trailing behind me.
“Well, you know what they say,” he commented as we sat side by side, gazing out at the moonlit water. “If you have one eye on yesterday, and one eye on tomorrow, you’ll be cockeyed today.”
I chuckled. “Well, now, there’s a picture.” Leaning back, I looked up at the moon. The here and now seemed pretty good at the moment. “I never noticed that advice at the Waterbird. They have so many quotes on that wall.”
“Yep, it’s there – on the Waterbird’s wall of wisdom. There’s another good one above the back door, but I can’t think of it right now.” I knew before even turning his way that he was smiling. “I remember reading the cockeyed one when I was a kid. My grandfather used to say it, too. We all just thought of it as an excuse to make cross-eyes at each other. We didn’t really get the meaning, of course. Kids spend all their time looking forward – wanting to be older, waiting for birthdays, Christmases, the start of summer. You’re either waiting for something to happen, or you’re in the moment.You never hear a kid saying, ‘I remember when I was seven-and-a-half. Man, those were good times.’ That changes sometime after thirty, I think.”
“Good point,” I observed. Mart was something of a philosopher, when you got to know him. He pondered things. “I didn’t realize that you lived here as a kid. I thought you’d just moved here.” I couldn’t remember why I had that impression – something he’d said in one of our conversations before, I supposed.
“It’s a long story. Not all that interesting.”
The tone of his voice, the intimacy of it, caused me to turn his way, thinking,
I’m interested
. I wanted to delve further into the mystery of him, but he met my gaze, and I lost the thought. Something about him, this place, the night, was mesmerizing.
He kissed me then – a soft, tender kiss that reached into me and touched desires I’d never known were there. When I pulled back to look in Mart’s eyes, there was a connection I couldn’t explain. I felt as if I could show all the hidden parts of myself, even the little rebellious streak my mother swore would be my undoing. Mart didn’t seem to expect anything of me, other than just to be myself, to sit talking about the day, or listen to a story about something that had happened to him at work, or analyze a quote from the Waterbird. The connection I felt with Mart was startling, exhilarating, and at the same time frightening. I wasn’t ready for it. I wasn’t ready for a relationship, and I didn’t know if I’d ever be – yet here I was, on the dock with him again, the night and the moment sweeping me away.
He kissed me, and I let it happen. Again.
I didn’t just let it happen. I gave myself over to it, to him, to the moment.
When the moment was over, after we said good-night and I went back to the house, reality crept over me, stealing away the comfortable, languid feeling. As I stepped in the back door, artificially chilled air encircling me, the dewy warmth of the night evaporated from my skin, and I just felt cold.
By the next afternoon, Birdie’s referral was waiting for me in my inbox, an e-mail forwarded from Taz. “It’s yours now,” he said, standing in my doorway and smiling. “There’s a service plan involved, too. Looks like it amounts to safety and cleanliness issues, mostly. If the grandfather wants to have a chance at temporary guardianship, he’s going to have to remedy some deficiencies – do some work on his place, take care of issues with the dogs in the backyard, bring the girl in for a medical checkup, get her enrolled in school, and so forth. Once the school year starts, the school may want to do some testing, to see where she’s at developmentally. Right now we don’t even know how old she is for sure. Neither does the grandfather. The investigator asked him.” Taz wagged a finger toward my computer screen, sighing and shaking his head. “Pretty strange case. You sure you want to take this on?”