Larkspur Cove (42 page)

Empty of the one thing I was looking for. Where was he today?

Finally I drifted back inside, fixed a late lunch, and checked my phone. No calls.

I watched a rerun of
Little House on the Prairie
, then took another shower and got ready to head for the Crossroads. It was late enough. After one o’clock. By the time I made it to Len’s selling spot, picked up Birdie, and drove to the Community Closet, the people who’d preregistered would have gone through the line. Since Birdie wasn’t on the list, she had to wait for the leftovers, but leftovers would be better than nothing. At this point, I was actually hopeful about making the trip with her. Some coloring and writing supplies might be useful in bringing out more details about her past. Perhaps when we were finished at the Closet, I’d follow Len back to his farm and have an unofficial session with Birdie. Anything would be better than sitting around home, watching the phone and the lake.

I couldn’t keep myself from looking for Mart one more time as I gathered my materials and left the house. When I passed by the Waterbird, his truck wasn’t in the parking area. Still, I looped around at the end of the lot, turning in while entertaining the random thought that Mart usually came to the Waterbird by boat, so he could be there. I exited my car and walked into the store with no idea of what I was going to say if he was inside. Part of me wanted to just make pleasant conversation, as if the dramatic parting scene last night had never happened.

Part of me knew that would be incredibly juvenile and completely unfair. Mart would think I really was a schizophrenic loony tune. I owed him an explanation and some sort of indication of how I felt about the future.

As my eyes adjusted to the interior, I looked around, hoping to see him, nervous about what to say, wondering what he would say. What was there to say?
The company’s right, but the timing’s wrong.
Maybe we could slow down, just be friends for now and see what happens –
something like that?

I quickly concluded that the store was deserted, except for Pop Dorsey, who was putting straws in a dispenser behind the counter. I bought a drink, so it would look like I was there for a reason.

“Everythin’ all right?” he asked, perhaps sensing my disappointment as I paid for the drink and prepared to leave. Normally, I would have been looking forward to helping a child shop for school supplies and clothes. I’d been doing that since long before getting my counseling degree.Volunteering at the free supply extravaganza was one of the activities I’d truly enjoyed back in Houston. There was nothing like seeing a child’s eyes light up over backpacks, colored pencils, crayons, and free coloring books from places like the National Safety Council. Today, even that had lost its luster.

“Everything’s fine,” I lied to Pop, and he frowned, as if he could tell it. “Kind of quiet around here today, isn’t it?” I really didn’t care why the store was deserted. I was angling for information about Mart. Stretching upward, I looked out the back window. Some of the fishermen were working on a welding project below – the infamous handicapped hoist, undoubtedly. It looked to be almost complete. Mart wasn’t down there.

Pop Dorsey nodded. “Yeah. Sheila had to make a run to Wal-Mart, and the fellas are pluggin’ along on the dock project. We’re gonna give ’er a test run in a bit, if Sheila’ll stay gone long enough.”

And where’s Mart?
I waited, but Pop didn’t divulge any more information. “That’s good.”

Pop shrugged, casting a glum look toward the lake. He probably wanted to be down there with the guys. “You and your boy headed out to enjoy this fine weather today?”

“Not today, I’m afraid.” I sounded as unenthusiastic as Pop did. “Dustin left on a trip with his dad to attend his grandfather’s funeral in North Dakota, and I’m driving out to the Crossroads to pick up Birdie and take her to the Community Closet for clothes and school supplies.”

Pop nodded his approval. “Sorry to hear about the funeral, but that’s a real good thing about Birdie. After we get done with the dock project this weekend, we’re gonna rummage around and see what we can gather together to help out at Len’s place. I got some old chain-link fence and a little lumber and whatnot stored behind my shed. Got some leftover paint around, too. It’s all just goin’ to rot. I can’t do much anymore, but I can fill a trash bag and run a paintbrush. From what Reverend Hay said, Len’s place needs a lot of that. I tried talkin’ to Len about it when he was by here with tomatoes yesterday. He didn’t say much, but then again, he never does.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” I agreed.“Len needs the help.” Thank goodness for Reverend Hay. Not just anyone could convince people to care about someone like Len.

“That Birdie sure is a sweet little gal.” Pop smiled. “Cute as a bug’s ear. Len brung her in here yesterday. She likes penny candy, so me and her are friends now.”

In the farthest reaches of my memory, I recalled coming into the Waterbird and leaving with free penny candy. Pop Dorsey was younger then but just as friendly. When my mother found out, she let us know that we should beware of strangers offering free gifts.

“I’m glad he’s taking her out around people more.” I’d been trying to communicate to Len that Birdie needed to interact with people, that he didn’t have to keep her hidden in the woods anymore. “I’ll try to talk to him about the house projects when I see him today. He might need a little time to process an idea like that.”

“Well, there’s a lot of us not as quick as we used to be,” Pop observed.“But that don’t mean we haven’t got somethin’ to offer.You know, Sheila and I talked the other day, and we’d be willing to watch after Birdie anytime. If Len can’t get ready to keep her right away, we could move her in with us. My wife, God rest her soul, and I raised four kids of our own and seven foster kids in the back of this ol’ store through the years. I bet you didn’t know that.”

“No, I didn’t.” My spirits lifted a little. A supportive community could make all the difference to Birdie. “Thanks for offering. I really think that with the right amount of pitching in, we can make this work. It’s just going to take some time.”

“Most worthwhile things do,” Pop remarked, closing the cash register. “I think Len will come around to seeing that folks want to help. Sydney and Ansley were here when he came by yesterday, and they took little Birdie in like she was a brand-new baby doll they just got. Mrs. Blue told Len to bring Birdie over anytime the girls are out swimming or playing in the yard. I think he might actually do it. And say, speakin’ of Len – if you get a chance while you’re at the Crossroads, would you mind pickin’ me up another gallon bucket of his tomatoes? Tell him they’re for the Waterbird, and I’ll put money on his account, here at the store.”

“Sure.”

A customer came in the door, and I stepped back from the counter. Pop smiled and waved me off. “Pretty drive out to the Crossroads – lots of views of the lake. Water looks like someone sprinkled it with diamonds today. Take yer time and look around.” He pointed to the motto above the door.

Stop looking ahead. Stop looking back. Stop. Look around.
For today, that would be my theme song. I was going to stop worrying and obsessing and just enjoy what the afternoon had to offer. “I’ll do that, thanks.” I stepped out the door into the sunlight, feeling the questions in my head dissipate a little. Pop was right. It was a beautiful afternoon. Not the kind of day for walking around under a cloud.

On the way to the Crossroads, I tried not to mull things over too much. I took my aggressions toward Karl out on a few mud-holes and laughed a little, thinking that Karl would probably have a heart attack if he could see me now. He didn’t know I was capable of powering through the mud in a monster truck.

The trip around the eastern corner of the lake left the truck covered in sludge. I was a little proud of it, actually. Len, in his strange, shy way, would probably say something like,
Ooo-eee! Uuuh-you –ugg-got
some umm-mud.
When I was leaving after my last visit with Birdie, Len had admired the state of the truck – as if the coating of mud were a badge of honor, proof that I really belonged in the hills.

When I rounded the corner and came within sight of the Crossroads, I didn’t see any sign of Len. Under a tree on the side of the road, an elderly couple was selling watermelons. I pulled over and asked them if they’d see a man and a little girl selling vegetables from a gray truck, and they told me they’d been alone all day.

“That’s strange,” I muttered, and checked my watch. It was after two o’clock. Where could they be?

Pulling under the shade of a tree, I rolled down the windows and turned off the engine. It was worth waiting at least awhile. Surely Len wouldn’t miss an entire Saturday of tomato-hungry tourists. Maybe he’d had trouble with his truck – a flat tire or something. He knew I was planning to meet him. So far, Len had been reliable. Between Mart, the caseworker, and me, we seemed to have convinced him that missing appointments could get him into trouble.

I checked my cell phone, hoping deep down that there would be a message from Mart but telling myself that if there was reception, I’d call Dustin and see how the trip was going. I was almost afraid to check. If Dustin didn’t sound happy, I wasn’t sure what I’d do. By now, he was hundreds of miles away.

The phone showed a one-bar signal, so I dialed Dustin’s number and achieved a patchy connection long enough to hear his voice and ask if he was doing all right.

“Yeah, I can hardly hear you, though. Where’re you at, Mom?”

“I’m out at the Crossroads waiting to meet up with Len. I’m taking Birdie for school supplies, remember?”

It was hard to tell whether Dustin really heard me or not. A hiss of static answered, and then “. . . kay. I better go. Don’t worry about me, all right?”

Don’t worry about me.
Easier said than done.“I love you, sweetie.” Shutting the phone, I laid my head back against the seat, watching a family with a pull-behind camper select watermelons across the street.

The lack of sleep was starting to weigh on me. I let my eyes fall closed, thinking,
Maybe just a little nap. Ten minutes.
If Len and Birdie didn’t show up by three, I’d go to the Community Closet event by myself and see if they’d let me pick up school supplies and select some clothes for her. Since Sheila was working, and she knew about Birdie’s situation, I could probably pull it off. It wouldn’t be as much fun as actually watching Birdie select things for herself, but it would be better than completely missing the opportunity. When a child has nothing and needs everything, you can’t afford to pass up a chance.

The breeze combed my hair as I drifted off. Considering the heat of the day, it wasn’t bad, sitting here in the shade. Comfortable, actually. Relaxing, after a really rough night and a strange day. Maybe all of it really was a dream. I’d wake up any minute now and find Dustin asleep in his bed. Mart would call while I was on my way to work . . .

“Y-y-y-you uuh-takin’ ubb-Birdie?”

I jerked upright and opened my eyes, my head light and logy. I was . . . Where was I?

In the truck?

“Yy-you takin’ ubb-Birdie?”

I turned toward the open window, my neck protesting the movement. Len was outside. He had his hand on Birdie’s shoulder.

Fog glazed my eyes as I checked the clock. It was almost four. If Birdie and I didn’t get going we’d miss the school supply event completely. “Oh, um, I . . . yes . . . I guess I fell asleep while I was waiting. I thought you’d be here earlier, selling tomatoes.”

“Him uggg-got c-c-colic. Umm-my umm-mule,” Len answered. “I ubb-been w-w-walkin ’im. Ugg-gotta go ubb-back, too.”

For a man of few words, Len did a surprisingly good job of filling me in on the events of the day. I quickly recalculated the rest of the afternoon, while realizing that Len had left what he was doing and driven all the way here, either because he didn’t want to miss our appointment or because he didn’t want to deprive Birdie of the shopping trip. Not every parent I dealt with would go to that extent. “Tell you what.You go ahead and do what you need to do. I’ll take Birdie to pick up her school supplies and clothes, and then we’ll get some supper, and I’ll bring her back later this evening. Would that be all right?”

Len seemed momentarily confused, then he shrugged and said, “All urr-right, I ugg-guess.”

Len walked Birdie to the passenger side of the truck and let her in. I buckled her into the seat, noting that among the other things we needed to accomplish was the procurement of a booster seat. In Texas, kids weren’t legal without one until seven years old.

She sat like a little statue as I turned on the ignition. Her eyes tracked the disappearance of Len’s truck, her head remaining face-forward, as if she were afraid to move.

“We’re going to have some fun today, Birdie,” I said. “We’ll get crayons and some paper and other good things for school, and some clothes and maybe even a toy, if we can find one.” She flashed a look my way at the word
toy
, and I knew I’d hit on a temptation. Maybe we’d make a quick stop at the dollar store.

As we circumvented the lake, Birdie and I began getting along famously. She and I even shared some conversation – mostly observing birds and flowers on the roadsides and spotting cars and signs that were red, like her boots. After that we sang “Jingle Bells,” because Birdie had spotted a trailer house with leftover Christmas decorations wilting in the sun.

When we reached the Community Closet event in the Moses Lake High School gym, Sheila was at the registration table, and much to my surprise, so was Bonnie, from work. Her church outreach group had helped gather boxes of clothing and school items for Community Closet. Birdie seemed happy to see Sheila, and in short order, Sheila and Birdie were shopping the goods while I stood talking with Bonnie, since the crowds were pretty well gone by then.