Lost & Found (20 page)

Rocky had purchased a bow with a thirty-pound draw. In the five weeks since Cooper’s return, she had practiced almost daily. Now it was February, and on the few days that were both without wind and above freezing, she practiced behind Tess’s house. On all the other days, she went to the boathouse. On Isaiah’s advice, she asked the club if she could use their storage house. It was surprisingly spacious, with plenty of room down the center, between the boats. She hauled in some hay bales and set them between the rows of boats that sat stacked in neat formation. Rocky stood between the twenty-and thirty-foot rigs on one end and the piles of sea kayaks on the other. The cement floor drove the cold through her shoes after an hour. That was long enough for her. Once or twice Isaiah showed up, just to sit and watch, he said, but Rocky didn’t like it when he was there. After two arrows skittered off a hull, she said, “This is like having someone watch you practice the piano or take a bath. I shoot lots worse when you’re here.”

Isaiah wore a leather bombardier hat with flaps over his ears.

“Well, if you’re not going to bring your dog with you, I
thought you would like to have some company. I won’t watch. I’ll do some old man thing like whittle, which I’ll have to learn to do eventually as I am getting older.”

Since they’d had a fight and made up, it was like someone had scrubbed layers of varnish off them and Isaiah had grown larger and softer in her life.

“You don’t need to look out for me,” she said. “I think Liz’s stalker ex-boyfriend is gone. It’s been over five weeks. He’s probably gone on to a new girlfriend and has a new set of obsessions. Give me some credit here; I know a few things about the strange entanglements of relationships.”

She set an arrow, drew back, and released. Thwack. Outer ring. Rocky sighed.

Isaiah zipped his coat. “I can see your game is off when I’m here. Either that or you’re just plain terrible all the time, and you’re trying to blame it on me.”

Rocky had her sights set on the forty-pound bow by spring. She felt her arms and back muscles firming. She had returned to swimming at the Y in Portland and her body was beginning to feel like hers again. Last night she had eaten a pile of spaghetti and meatballs.

She guided Isaiah to the big sliding metal door. “You’re right, in a way. I’m not confident enough yet to let people watch me. If I was really focused in the way that I should be, I wouldn’t even notice you sitting there,” she said.

As Rocky watched her friend walk on the gravel path to the parking lot, Isaiah turned and said, “Go get yourself a tune-up with that archery teacher. That’s what you need.”

The door squealed as she pulled it shut. No, she did not want a tune-up from Hill. She wasn’t sure if she trusted him about anything.

One of the overhead fluorescent lights flickered. The thought of spring was a bright speck of light drawing closer. As soon as she could stand it, she was going to start practicing outside again at Tess’s. She looked at the offending light and wondered if she could haul a ladder inside and change the failing tube. The ceilings were twenty feet tall, maybe thirty.

Today was one of the days when Melissa came directly home from school and took Cooper for a walk. Rocky had started leaving Cooper alone for an hour or two; she had to get him used to being alone. She couldn’t be with him constantly.

Melissa. Didn’t she have any friends on the island? Rocky never saw her with another kid. She had seen her several times at the Y, and each time, Melissa had looked uncomfortable, as if she had been caught robbing a bank. Rocky had not said anything to cause a meltdown with the girl since Cooper came back. Could she broach the subject of friends? Was it any of her business? Melissa had looked alarmed when Rocky told her that she was a psychologist and that her husband had died on their bathroom floor.

“Why did you make up a big story?” Melissa had asked.

“Because I couldn’t stand the truth. I couldn’t stand the idea that people would expect me to know what I was doing because I was a therapist. And I knew CPR. When Bob died, it was like all of sudden I was handed a whole new set of skin that was sad and miserable and I didn’t want to be that person. I was sad and miserable and I still am, but now I’ve got a couple of minutes each day when I don’t think of death at the same moment that I’m thinking of my husband. I think of him the way he was, not him dying.”

Melissa hadn’t said anything, but later that night, Melissa returned with a plate of brownies and a note from Melissa’s mother.
We are sad that your husband died and that it made you hide from us when you first came here. It is good to get to know you.

Several days earlier Rocky learned Cooper’s leg had gotten as good as it was going to get. His leg and shoulder were stiff when he first got up, and she suspected that the cold weather was tough on him in the site of his injury. She had asked Sam to take another look at the dog and he confirmed the diagnosis. Sam had offered to see Cooper at his house, where he offered vet services one morning per week.

“He’s a good strong dog. Given the extent of his injuries, it’s amazing that the only remaining result is a slight limp. This is where you tell me what a terrific vet I am,” he said.

“You saved him,” said Rocky.

Sam looked startled. “No sassy repartee? Don’t tell me this big guy is improving your personality?”

“My personality needs more help than a canine can offer. But it’s true, you’re a good vet and you saved him.”

Rocky and Sam stood in the entryway of Sam’s house. He turned and yelled to his wife, “Honey, the dog warden is being too nice to me. Something must be wrong; help me. She gave me a direct compliment stripped of irony.”

Rocky heard a rustling sound in another room.

“Don’t get used to it,” is what she thought she heard.

Sam turned up his hands and shrugged his shoulders. “You see what my world is like.”

Rocky and Cooper loaded into the truck. The dog rode shotgun. “We’re both going to be okay,” Rocky had said, trying to be convincing. Cooper had looked over his left shoulder, giv
ing her one of his stunning smiles, full of warm breath and contentment.

Rocky was home for a few moments when she saw Melissa and the dog coming up the road and was startled at their transformation. They both walked with abandon; the girl had dropped her tight control of every bone, muscle, and capillary in her thin body. Once when Cooper stopped abruptly, the girl didn’t have time to catch herself and she tumbled over him. Rocky could swear they were old friends or playmates, apologizing to each other. The dog cringed for a moment and Melissa said something that must have been, “Hey, forget it, my fault.” The black Lab then bounded around her legs and dove off the side of the road to roll in the last pile of snow in a shaded spot, kicking his legs into the air. Melissa squatted next to him, staying clear of his paws that punched the air.

Rocky watched with longing, wishing to ingest whatever it was that they had. They were happy. That was something she had not anticipated. If anything were to happen to her, Cooper would be fine. He’d spend the rest of his life with Melissa. Everybody loved him. Tess and Isaiah treated him like a good brother. Rocky couldn’t stay here on this island forever; her leave from the college would be over at the end of the coming summer. She shook her head; that was the first time she’d thought about the next step, about going home and living her life without Bob, about her lonely bed, about wearing the mantle of widow.

Melissa and Cooper burst through the door. Melissa said, “He knew you were home. He can tell. How do they do that? How do dogs know when you’re driving home even if it’s a different time each day?”

A spigot had opened in Melissa, a faucet for her thoughts and ponderings that had previously been frozen. She didn’t wait for Rocky to answer.

“Their noses are like one hundred times better than ours and their eyes reflect more light than ours do so they can see better at night, and they hear stuff at frequencies that we don’t notice,” she said.

Rocky gave Cooper several hearty thumps on his haunches that sent him into curls of delight. “You’ve been reading up on dogs.”

Melissa stuck her hands in the front pouch of her sweatshirt.

“I’ve been reading about animal behavior on the Internet.”

Rocky made a mental note to pick up a book about dogs for Melissa.

“It’s like they have a different language, like dolphins or whales and we only want them to know our language but we never try to speak theirs.”

The phone rang. Rocky had been mesmerized by the girl who was emerging out of the tight skin. Not that her musings were so extraordinary, but that she was sharing them, she was thinking about something aside from caloric intake and five hundred sit-ups. Rocky picked up the phone. It was the post office.

“You’ve got a box here, thought you might want it. It’s from a sporting goods place.”

Rocky paused and tilted her head to one side. “I didn’t order anything from them. Must be a mistake.”

“Well, you need to come and get it. Got your name on it.”

She hung up and frowned. The call from the post office
rattled her. Who would send her something from a sporting goods store?

Melissa headed for the door. “I have calculus to do,” she said. Rocky walked the girl to the deck. The girl leapt off, spread her arms wide and yelled, “I do calculus, therefore I am.”

It was the first completely frivolous thing she had seen Melissa do. The leap was crooked and she landed awkwardly, yet she had a lightness that was untouched by the forces of gravity. The moment ended when Melissa caught herself and she resumed her exact and steel-clad posture. Rocky marveled at how swiftly she could go from spontaneous to rigid.

Rocky said, “See you later. Hey, my mother used to say the same thing except her version was ‘I bitch, therefore I am.’”

Melissa gave Rocky a co-conspirator’s glance for two seconds, three seconds, then she turned and sprang off on her young stick legs.

Rocky took the dog and walked the mile to the post office. The package was not from the sporting goods store in Portland, but from an archery company in Nebraska. Rocky checked the name, and yes it was addressed to her. The return address was unfamiliar. Hansen Bow Company, Traditional and Primitive Archery, Allen, Nebraska.

Rocky gave the package back to the postal clerk. “What should I do? I didn’t order anything from them,” she said.

“Could be a gift; maybe you have a secret admirer,” said the postal clerk. The nametag said Marie. “You can always send it back as long as you don’t open it.”

Rocky kept the package. She carried it under one arm and walked slowly back to the house. Cooper left complicated urine messages on trees, fences, bushes, lampposts, telephone
poles, and on one particularly alluring rock that had pushed its way up from the asphalt sidewalk. Cooper rationed out just enough urine for a round-trip from home to the downtown and back.

The package was light for its size, about three feet long. She pulled a tab that said “pull here” and a string eviscerated the package, cutting it in half. She pulled the cardboard apart and unrolled a Styrofoam blanket. Within its eternal protection was a group of arrows. The shafts were deep amber, the feathers notched tight. A flyer said, “Hansen’s Traditional and Primitive Archery Equipment. These arrows are made of Osage orange and dried slowly in the open air of Nebraska.”

She stopped reading. The arrows clattered to the table, the tips eyeing her with a husky glare. Nebraska. What had Sam said back when he first saw the arrow in the dog? He had told her that there was a place in Nebraska where they made something like these. Someone was sending her the same arrows that Liz used, the same type of arrow that someone had used to shoot Cooper.

Cooper. She looked over at him. He had carried his favorite stick into the house. It was about two feet long, and dotted with tooth marks. He dropped it with a clatter. She immediately thought of Peter. And in the next breath another name came up.

Rocky pulled into Hill’s driveway and as soon as she turned off the ignition, her throat grew dry and her hands went cold. All the blood galloped back to her torso for protection. Her heart pounded and she could hear her pulse thundering in her left ear. Was this what people heard before an aneurysm bursts loose, or a heart seizes up? No, she was terrified, not dying. If she could slow down her breathing and take deep breaths, she could regain enough control to get out of the car. She put her hands on the steering wheel and pushed her arms straight and took in a large gulp of air.

Beside her was the box with arrows from Hansen’s in Nebraska, which she had not ordered, but had been sent to her nonetheless. She scooped up the box in one arm, opened the truck door, and walked up to Hill’s house. She had never been in his house; all the lessons had taken place in his backyard. She hadn’t seen him since the day he came out to Peak’s Island.

He had called once and left a message but she had not returned his call. She knew he was not the kind of guy to call twice. But she imagined that every blinking light on her
phone might be him, and she wondered what she would have done if he had called again. She had not erased his message.

“Rocky, what happened with Liz was long before you. You can’t control the past, especially my past. I’d like to see what we’ve got here. Give me a call.” Beep.

She hesitated at the fence to the backyard. No, she should just knock on the side door. Her hand was on the gate, and she stepped one foot into the backyard, the only part that she was familiar with. Then no, she turned and headed for the side door, and there he was. Hill stood at the door looking at her. He opened the door wide. “Nothing’s easy with you, is it?” he said and stood aside to let her in.

He was just home from work. He wore khaki pants and a navy blue sweater. It never occurred to her that he ever wore different clothes than the ones he wore when he taught archery. Of course, archery was just one part of his life, and his livelihood was teaching high school kids. Rocky was startled by the picture that emerged of him teaching eleventh-grade English and not archery. This man graded papers, collected homework, and probably had to attend the spring prom. Her resolve at discovering the truth began to fray.

She held out the box to him. “I need to know one thing. Did you send this to me?” Her hands shook as she passed the box to him and she knew that he noticed.

“What? Send you what? I got the clear message from you that you weren’t interested. I don’t need a duplicate copy of the memo. I get it.”

Rocky wanted very much to believe him, but she could not afford to be lied to. She watched his eyes and they met her straight on. She pulled an arrow out of the cardboard box. “These arrows are exactly the same as the one used to shoot
Cooper. There are only two people who I can think of who would send these to me: you and Liz’s boyfriend, and I’m not feeling too great about either option.”

Hill took the arrow from her and ran it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Before we speculate on the sender, do you mind if I admire these for about thirty seconds? These are beautiful. See that binding around the point? Deer gut. I bet this wood was cut by the same guy who made this arrow. Some guys go all the way when they become traditionalists. But I didn’t send these. So I guess this would be a bad gift choice for you?”

She felt her calf muscles flicker, not knowing if they should spring like a cat or soften and stay.

“You look worried, if you don’t mind me saying, and I want you to stay and tell me what’s going on before you decide to bolt out of here. I can’t believe you’re standing in my house.” He pulled out a chair and pushed aside his briefcase bulging with papers on the table. She sat down.

She watched him caressing the arrow shaft, turning it to look at the point. Then he picked up the flyer that had fallen out of the box. “I’ve heard of this guy. Nice work.” He put the arrows down, folded up the piece of paper back into thirds and slid it into the box.

Rocky hadn’t known what she wanted when she came to his house, or if she should believe him, no matter which way he answered.

“You swear that you didn’t send these? You didn’t order them and have them sent to me?”

Hill leaned against the sink and placed both palms on the edge. The kitchen was small enough that Rocky could see an angry hangnail on one thumb.

“I didn’t send you this,” he said and for the first time she really believed him. “I’d like an excuse not to read sixty essays. Why don’t you stay and tell me what’s happening,” he said. He pulled two Mexican beers from the fridge and set one in front of Rocky. He slipped a knife from a drawer and cut a lime in half. Hill squeezed one lime into his beer and handed Rocky the other half. “Vitamin C. It’s been a long winter,” he said.

“Here’s what’s happening. I saw one of your paper targets at Liz’s old house. I didn’t know it was yours until you came out to the island and tacked up one of your targets.”

She had a lot to tell him, but she wanted to say the worst part first. She saw the flicker of surprise on his face, the involuntary jump among a small group of forehead muscles, as he ran the whole story through his head, fast forward, and his eyes moved from lower left to upper right as if he was watching a video, then he met her gaze.

“You’re wondering if I’m not telling you something, if I’m lying, if I kept seeing her after that one time, if I’m a psychopathic killer from the Maine woods.”

“Yes, and in that exact order. If you’re the psycho guy, save that part until last.”

She wanted to rub her finger along his black eyebrows and she hoped he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. She clubbed down the part of her that wanted to touch the perfect half spiral of his eyebrow near the middle and follow the dark hairs up and out to the edges where they ended with soft down.

Rocky told him about the house in Orono, and the meticulously sawn arrows that had been set aside by the carpenter and given to someone who sounded like Peter. Then she told
him about Peter finding her at the old Hamilton place, about the way she lied to him about the dog to get the address of Liz’s parents. He pushed his beer away and coiled tightly together. She watched him turn into the hunter.

“You’ve got what he wants,” said Hill. “He could just be waiting for the right moment. Maybe you shouldn’t stay out there.”

“But that’s where I live. Isaiah talked to the Portland police and they said there was nothing they could do without more information. Technically, he’s done nothing wrong,” said Rocky.

“Let me help you,” Hill said. “I’m worried about you. A guy like this is bad news.”

Rocky stood up and drew the box of arrows toward her. She wanted to stay. She wanted to put the box down and take off her shoes and toss her car keys on the table.

“When I went to Liz’s house in Orono, she had one of your targets up in her backyard. That means that she hadn’t forgotten you.”

Hill started to speak and then rubbed one hand across his face in a way that far older men do.

“I am not going to lie about this. She was an amazing woman, sort of like a bolt of lightning. I wish I could have known her better, but I was married and it was just not going to happen. I tossed a roll of my targets into her car when I left. Stupid, huh?”

“You wanted her to remember you, and I guess she did,” said Rocky. “Look, I’m glad I talked to you again.” She tucked the box under her arm and slid her keys across the table into her fist. Hill might be separated, but he was still married,
and Rocky suddenly felt foolish in his kitchen, talking about the time he had sex with Liz.

“You don’t have to go. We don’t have to keep skimming the surface,” he said when he saw her grab her coat.

And Rocky saw herself floating on the surface of a pool, belly down, touching as lightly as a water strider.

“Sometimes the surface is the safest place to be,” she said as she left.