The Fence My Father Built (31 page)

After more digging, I unearthed what resembled a tattered canvas bag. I worked carefully, watching in case Linc made a comeback. After brushing off the dirt, I opened the bag. A woven item lay inside. I cradled what looked to be part of a basket and pulled back one edge. A dark, sausage-shaped rock lay inside the basket. I couldn’t say a word. Dad's journal had told about finding something special, about hiding a basket made from camas. My father, lost all these years, helped me to find answers to the questions I didn’t know I had.

I carefully folded the basket into its bag, careful not to squash the fragile basket. I brushed the soil from my jeans, hung the crumpled dream catcher on one of the remaining oven doors, and raced home. The pulse of my father's blood pumped through me. In the deepest places of my being, I knew who I was.

F
urious about my confrontation with Linc, Lutie couldn’t stop crying. “Tell George we’re pressing any and all charges— from trespassing to destruction of private property to assault. Hand me a tissue, will you?” She blew her nose. “Dear Lord, we can’t let that skunk get away with this.”

Tiny comforted her. “Don’t worry, my sweet Pearl.” He set a box of tissues on the recliner arm. “Muri is going to help make things right, aren’t you, Muri?”

I sat on the sofa, the artifacts spread over the coffee table like a museum display. “Let's see what George has to say.” I held Dad's box on my lap. “I asked him to bring the photos. He’ll know if we’ve got enough to make it stick.”

Tru clung to my side. He picked up an arrowhead. It slipped through his fingers and landed, unharmed, on the carpet. He quickly retrieved it and held his hands behind his back.

I smiled at my son. “Tru, don’t touch, okay?” He nodded, pushing up his glasses.

The easy part would be showing the bags of artifacts to my attorney. It would be much harder to prove what only Tru and I had seen—the bag with the missing kap’n stick in Linc's
truck. And it might be impossible to prove Linc knew where the camas basket was hidden under the oven door.

George arrived a few minutes later and was awed by the collection of ancient items spread before him. He whistled softly. “Joe sure did a fine job,” he said. “This is pretty impressive stuff.” He ran a hand through his silvery hair.

I glanced up. “That's what Rubin's archaeologist friend said.”

Tiny helped Lutie out of her recliner. “George, what do you think? I mean, which angle do we take?” She stood with her hands on her hips.

George frowned. “We aren’t home free just yet, but—”

Lutie broke in. “I know that. Are we better off charging Linc with grave desecration or do we go with theft? Or even assault? Good glory, George, he shoved my niece here off the bed of a flatbed truck and could’ve seriously hurt Tru.” Lutie's eyes shone wet again, and my son got up and hugged her.

George held up his hand. “I was going to say, it's not open and shut just yet, but I finally got the search warrant. They’re looking for evidence in Linc's place as we speak.”

“Thank the Lord,” Lutie said.

Tiny nodded, and Tru yelled, “Cool!”

I had to agree. God's love felt almost overwhelming, and I could barely hold back my own tears.

The phone rang again, and I felt a leap of hope. The call wasn’t about the search warrant. It was Nova. The moment I heard my daughter's voice I shouted. Tiny and Tru danced around the kitchen table as if we’d won the lottery. Lutie waited until I nodded frantically to her, then she started praising God out loud again, crying harder than before. My newfound faith had just got a boost.

“Nova? Baby, are you all right?” I would have crawled right through the fiber optic cable if I could have.

“Yeah, Mom. It's me.”

“Nova.”

“I’m fine, Mom. Really.”

I detected the small waver in her voice, knowing instantly she was far from okay. “Where are you?”

“With the people who were at Rubin's party. They say you know them.”

I interrupted her. “What on earth are you doing at Denny and Gwen's place? Did detox give you my message?” I was afraid she’d hang up on me, but I had to know. Nova didn’t answer immediately. “It doesn’t matter, honey,” I said, trying to mend my words. “I’m just glad to hear your voice.”

Nova sounded tired. “I didn’t get any message. I wasn’t in detox, Mom. It's Marvin. He OD’d. Denny and Gwen found me.” She said it as if I ought to have figured that much out.

“Stay put then,” I said. “I’ll be there right away.”

“Denny and Gwen say they’re bringing me today.”

I was surprised but grateful for these two relative strangers and their generosity. “Don’t you just love them?” I asked Nova.

“I love
you
, Mom,” she said, something I hadn’t heard in a very long time. She put Denny on the line.

Denny explained that he and Gwen had retrieved Nova from the street outside the detox center and taken her to their home.

“We’re more than happy to drive over with her,” Denny said. “Gwen's mom is watching Leila. We’re shoving off in a few minutes. We should make it to your place by late this afternoon.”

I was too worn-out to protest. “Thank you so much, Denny. I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am for finding Nova.”

“No need,” Denny said. “I’m just glad we found her safe. See you in a few hours.”

After I hung up, George said, “Rubin's pal is an expert, right?” Lutie had apparently filled George in on Dr. Denny the archaeologist.

“Not to mention an absolute angel,” Lutie put in.

George smiled. “We’ll have a much better chance in court if an expert witness testifies that the things Tru found in Linc's truck are the same artifacts in the photos. Denny's opinion, combined with the journal and all the rest, might be enough.” He shook my hand. “Let me get back to the office and see what the warrant turns up.”

I marveled at how complex this issue had become. “Law isn’t always an exact science, is it?”

George opened the door and turned. “A good piece of luck helps,” he said and grinned at Lutie. “If you believe in luck.” He left without banging the screen.

When George was gone, Lutie said, “What we have here isn’t luck. It's a miracle. Thank you, Jesus.”

Nova was coming home. I sat in a daze, while Lutie stroked my hair in the maternal way I’d grown to love. “God's been looking out for your pretty girl,” she said.

I nodded. “I’m sorry for what I said to you about angels,” I said. “No offense.”

Lutie smiled. “None taken.”

I suddenly didn’t care who knew about my experience with God. I told my aunt the details. She laughed long and hard when I got to the part where I tried to make a deal with God.

“Folks will say anything when they’re desperate,” she said. “God knows your heart.”

I had to agree. Even if nothing else worked out, my daughter was safe. I hoped God didn’t really expect me to join a convent. As for punishment, waiting for Nova felt like torture.

“Mercy, you sure been through the fire.” Lutie kissed the top of my head the way I used to do Nova when she was a little girl.

A
few hours later, Denny and Gwen met us at the trailer with hearty hellos and hugs. I was already looking past them at my daughter. Nova slouched against the doorway, wearing a tank top and a long flowing skirt adorned with Chinese characters. I couldn’t remember when I’d last seen her wear anything but worn-out jeans.

For a long awkward moment I couldn’t budge, afraid if I touched her she might evaporate like a desert mirage. Finally, she moved in my direction, so I took that as a signal and swooped over to her like a mother bird.

I hugged my daughter hard enough to make sure she was truly alive until finally, she pushed away. “Mom, I can’t breathe.”

I stood back, crying. I examined her in the same way mothers of newborns carefully check for adequate numbers of fingers and toes. “It's so good to see you, baby.”

She looked away. Crying had never been something she did freely or often. Later, we would both break down and bawl. She couldn’t let go just yet—not in front of everyone.

Out of the blue, we all started laughing. Denny and Gwen joked about the freeway congestion, air pollution, and road rage. I thanked them countless times for their prayers and for their aid. They had brought us back together, and I was so thankful I could have melted. After a while they left us alone and headed over to Rubin's for the night.

Tru had gone to bed by the time we heard Nova's story. “He said he was getting into a band that had already been signed,”
she said, the waver in her voice more like a choked-back sob. “But he didn’t tell me how these guys were into needles and stuff. Next thing you know, Marvin's hooked really bad. He passed out, Mom. Somebody called 911.”

“What about you? You need help too?” I looked at my fingers. Jesus gazed down from his portrait on the wall. Everything magnified as I awaited her answer.

“No way,” she said. “I’m not crazy. I hate needles.”

I let my breath out. My Nova, the girl who brought home stray cats and helped injured birds, was still in there. I smiled to myself. “Honey, what are you going to do now?” I forced calm into my voice. “I mean what do you
want
to do?”

She sounded angry. “I hope I never see Marvin again. I’ve been sleeping outside for two days, and I’m cold, wet, and starved … and scared, Mom … real scared.”

“Oh, Nova.”

“I’m so glad to be home with you.” She was sobbing now, her voice small and thin.

“Are you sure? You could go stay with your dad.” I wanted her to decide without pressure from me.

“Right. Dad really has time. And I detest Victoria. No way, Mom.”

Finally, she stopped crying and sighed deeply. Her eyes looked sleepy, and when I tucked her into bed, she fell asleep almost immediately. Her breath was rhythmic, slow, and relaxed. I lay awake, thanking God again and again for returning her to me. His angels had done a good job, I said, and I knew Dad would have been pleased. I drifted off, staring at the ceiling, where Nova's glow-in-the-dark plastic stars still reflected a universe of their own. They had been there all these weeks, faithful as their real counterparts in the central Oregon sky.

I
n the morning, George summoned me to his office. I dressed in that prissy navy skirt again and noticed that instead of binding at the waist, it now hung loosely on my hips. Maybe all that jogging had finally paid off.

I packed Tiny's truck with my father's box, the photos, journal, and the artifacts and slipped Nova's glass angel into my pocket. It felt warm to my touch.

“I don’t mind driving you, Muri,” Tiny said. “In fact, I’d just blend into the woodwork, like a chauffeur.”

“I appreciate that, Uncle Tiny, really. But this is something I need to do alone.” I turned to Lutie. “I could use lots of prayers, though.” My legs shook uncontrollably.

I thought she might cry then, but she only muttered one of her
glory be's
.

“Why can’t I come?” Tru looked angry, something rare for him.

“I’ll be back by this afternoon, Tru. Try to understand.”

He let out a groan. “Whatever.” I could tell that my next teen adventure wasn’t far away.

Nova had eaten, showered, and slept for hours and hours. But she awoke long enough to wish me luck. “Mom, I’m sure you’re going to win.” She hugged me and kissed my cheek and dived back into bed.

On the road to Murkee, I held onto the vibrating steering wheel of Tiny's pickup and weighed the pros and cons. Since Lutie and Tiny were no longer in danger of losing their home, I didn’t have to stay. After all, I had found what I’d been looking for. The legacy of Joseph Pond was a part of me now.

Besides, in spite of Dove's offer to get the library started again, I was certain there were more job opportunities in Portland than Murkee. I might have to get certified in elementary education, but my chances of finding a decent job would be higher in a larger town. I squinted hard against the glare of the overcast skies, but today no hawks circled. The clouds had woven themselves together into a heavy blanket.

What about Linc? He might want, no, he would
relish
, any opportunity to make our lives miserable. Tiny and Lutie were part of the community, but we were still outsiders. Leaving would be the safest thing for the kids. In spite of my heroic thoughts about becoming a conservationist and preserving the wilderness, I wasn’t exactly a cowgirl.

“But I love it here,” I heard myself say. I couldn’t make up my mind.

Suddenly, a gleaming SUV with dark tinted windows nearly sideswiped me, and then swerved back into its own lane. I gasped as the guy shook his fist at me. I immediately prayed for some of Lutie's angels to keep me safe. I could almost see my aunt's smile—a smile that was a lot like my father's … and a lot like my own.

When I entered George's office he pulled on his suit jacket and looked dashing as the cowboy lawyer in his brown
western-style outfit and shiny boots. He also wore an ear-to-ear grin. “Good news.”

I gasped and let out a whoop. “Tell me!”

George reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the photos Dad had taken. He pointed to one of the arrowheads. “See this one?” He paused. “Near as we can tell, this is the same artifact that's described in a forged document.”

Every citizen in Murkee must have heard. “Fakes,” I crowed. “Linc's documents are fakes.”

“I was skeptical,” George said. “But you were right. Our FBI guy dug up some improper documentation. The articles described were a pre-Clovis arrowhead and some sort of tribal stick for digging roots.”

I opened the bag and produced the fragile remnants, gingerly setting them, one by one, on his desk. Now it was George's turn to gasp.

“This one's called a kap’n stick,” I told him.

“Hold on, hold on,” George said. “The search warrant did its job. An entire room of Linc's house is covered with wall-to-wall artifacts.”

George sat down and leaned back in his chair. “More stuff than you can imagine. It’ll take weeks to sift through it all.” He outlined our next move. “The forged document will be enough to put Linc out of business. But the Feds are interested in the collector. He's the big fish.”