Tomorrow's Sun (15 page)

“Not sure the river can take any more rain. You’re safe up here on the hill, though.”

A short, hard exhale jerked Adam’s shoulders as he glanced at the white house with green shutters. “Yeah. Safe.”

So much said between lines, but Emily couldn’t decipher it without more clues. “So you and Emily live with your dad, I take it.”

He shrugged. “We live with my mom’s husband. Our real dad ditched us. He wasn’t mean, but he was lazy like Ben. Nobody knows where he is now.”

“I’m sorry.”

Adam shrugged.

“And Ben never legally adopted you?”

Shoulders up then down again. He wrenched his bag from the backseat. “I got some books on the Underground Railroad.” He held up what appeared to be a map. “B
U
R S
PUR
” was printed in red letters outlined in white. “This shows all the places around here where runaway slaves were hid or where abolitionists lived. The BuR S
PUR
stands for the Burlington, Rochester, and Spring Prairie Underground Railroad Trail. There are three places in Rochester—one of them is just a block from your—” He dropped the pamphlet. “There! There she is. I knew it!”

An enormous orange cat with an uncanny resemblance to Puss from the
Shrek
movies sauntered across the highway. Half a block away, a red pickup slowed. Pansy lifted her chin in acknowledgment. Emily’s relief tumbled out in laughter. “That’s one confident animal.”

Adam grinned. “Lexi says she’s got cattitude.” He threw his bag in the backseat and opened the van door as a low black convertible barreled past, horn blasting at the animal it missed by mere inches. An almost human screech came from the cat. Orange fur bristling, Pansy darted toward the water, streaked along the river’s edge. Adam slammed the car door and ran after her.

Emily started the car and made a U-turn, keeping one eye on the red shirt that bounded through the underbrush along the waterline.

At the first side road, Adam leaped over a guardrail and turned left. Emily caught a streak of orange burning ahead of him. The roly-poly cat ran like a cheetah. “Catch her!” Emily yelled. Useless noise with the windows closed.

A raindrop splattered the windshield. Thunder rumbled from the south. Flipping the signal lever, she waited for a semi to pass. A green airport sign hung below one that read B
IENEMANN
R
D
. Adam stopped running at a gravel drive that ran under what appeared to be an old railroad bridge. Rust-brown ribs spanned the river. Faded letters spelled out B
IENEMANN
F
ARM
. A gate closed off the drive at the end of the bridge.

Rain pelted the windshield. Emily rolled down her window. “It’s private property, Adam. Get back in the car before you get soaked.”

Chin bouncing on his chest, lanky arms limp at his sides, he marched to the van and got in.

“She’ll find a place to hide and find her way home when the rain stops.”

Adam shook his head. “She’s too smart for that. Ben’ll kill her if she goes home.”

Kill
was an overused word in junior high. But there was no questioning the tone in his voice. “You’re serious.”

“Yeah.” Adam ran his hand through damp hair and nodded. “Lexi told Jake that Ben said he was going to kill the cat. He threw her, really hard, on the concrete.” He swiped a cheek wet with more than rain.

“We’ll find her.” Emily gave in to the maternal nudge and rubbed his shoulder. The red shirt was steamy, coiled muscles taut beneath it.

“Look!” His window went down. Across the water, the cat ran between the trees. Lightning branched like bleached nerves above the bridge. “I know what—“Thunder crashed, swallowing his words. Adam grabbed the door handle.

“Stay—” The door closed on her plea. Emily opened hers and fished for her cane, stuck under Adam’s pack. Pulling it free, she kicked the door open. Rain lashed her face. Black clouds slammed together. Jagged, blue-white light stabbed the pewter sky. “Adam!”

“There’s a boat! Come on!” His left arm scooped the air, beckoning her.

“No! That’s crazy. You can’t—”

“Come on!” He held up an oar, shaking it in the air.

Emily tripped in the gravel, caught herself with her cane. Half-sliding down the bank, she reached the old wooden rowboat as Adam shoved it into the water. “Get out of that thing. Look at it. It’s ancient.” He held out his hand to her. “Adam. Please. Get out. This isn’t safe.”

“If I don’t find her, Ben will, and that’s not safe. I have to catch her for Lexi.”

Everything in her wanted to scream,
It’s just a cat!

She took his hand.

I
t took all of Adam’s strength to push away from the bank. He squeezed the oar with fingers purplish-gray from the cold. Had it ever rained this hard in the history of the world? His bottom jaw clattered against the top.

“It’s not like a canoe, Adam. You can’t steer with only one oar.”

What did she know about boats, anyway? Emily hadn’t stopped yelling since she got out of the van. But she’d gotten in the boat, and now he’d show her. Squinting into the sheeting downpour, he dipped the oar deep on the left.
Port
. He knew this stuff. He’d watched a movie on the
Titanic
just two weeks ago. Right was starboard, left was port. Two strokes into the wind, the boat swerved toward the bridge. He swung the oar across the bow, one stroke to correct. Back over the bow, two starboard strokes to fight the current, one port stroke to straighten their course. He glanced behind. Fifteen, maybe twenty yards stretched between them and the bank. Three more sets zigzagged them closer to the opposite shore. He studied the highway, a blurry line dotted with trees off to the right. It was getting closer. The current was winning.

“I’ll take a turn.”

What could she know about boats? Still, his arms burned. He swiveled on the splintery seat and handed her the oar. The boat jerked ahead a couple yards, but they were headed for the bridge. Adam smiled. She’d give up soon enough. Back and forth, they crept across, but they were losing the battle with the current.

He shifted position, moving away from a crack in the weathered seat. His feet felt weighted. He looked down. Water covered the tops of his shoes. His pulse quickened.
It’s just rain. Just rain
.

“Here! Take it!” she yelled.

She quit sooner than he’d thought.
Women
. He didn’t try to hide his grin. Taking the paddle, he quickly fell into rhythm.

The boat rocked. What was she doing back there? Adam looked over his shoulder. Emily was taking off her jacket. If she thought she was going to make him put it on, she could guess again. It would only slow him down. The boat stopped rocking.

“Keep rowing on the right!” she called over the wind.

He glanced back. She’d wrapped her Windbreaker around the curved end of her cane and was dipping it in the water. “Okay!” He stroked and she matched it. Their course straightened instantly.

“There’s no earthly way of knowing…” Emily scream-sang Willy Wonka’s “Rowing Song” over a clap of thunder.

Adam laughed and joined in. They volleyed verses about hurricanes a-blowing and danger growing as they neared the trees. Adam looked down. The water had risen at least two inches. The boat sat lower in the water.

“Log! Ahead on the right!” Panic filled Emily’s voice. He felt her swing her makeshift oar to starboard. “Paddle, Adam! Hard!”

He needed a better center of gravity. Sliding off the bench, he dropped to his knees and felt a board move beneath his shins. Bending into the wind, he shoved the oar deeper, pushed harder. The log rolled, a dragon head lifting out of the water— “We’re gonna hit it!”

“Stop paddling! Let the current take us around—” The boat shuddered then rose on the right side.

Adam scrambled for a hold. The oar tumbled into the river. Wood splintered. A jagged branch punched through the bow. “Emily!” Fighting terror, he fastened his gaze on the riverbank. They weren’t moving. If they could hold on to the log… “Give me your cane!”

It landed on his arm, the jacket still wrapped around one end. He fought with the material, but couldn’t untie it. He needed a knife.
Back right pocket
. Hands stiff and shaking, he pulled it out and ripped through the jacket. He swung the hook onto the dragon neck and yanked. It held. The pitching stopped.

“Hold still. I’m moving forward.” Her steady voice calmed him. “When I say so, move to your right. Okay.
Move.”

Adam made room. With a quiet groan, Emily landed beside him. “Good thinking.” She pointed at the cane. “I’ll take over when you get tired.” She felt around behind her as she spoke and finally produced a phone. But when she flipped it open, the screen was black. Her arm rubbed against his as her shoulders fell. She turned to him with a scared-looking smile. “Can you swim?”

She should have stopped him. Or paddled against him and with the current. Such a narrow strip of water; in quiet weather they could have crossed in two minutes. But in this…
Lord God, get us out of here
.

Adam shivered. His lips were blue. She put one arm around his thin shoulders. “Can I borrow some heat?”

“Sh-sure. I r-read a study about mountain climbers. If two people h-huddle together, you only lose about twenty-five percent of the heat one person would alone. It works like how mittens keep you warmer than gloves. It’s a g-good survival technique.”

In agreement, she rubbed his back then reached for the cane. “Can you slip out of your shoes?”

With exaggeratedly slow movements, he eased out of them. Emily did the same.

“Rub your arms and move your knees up and down carefully to get some circulation.”

The wind picked up. Horizontal rain pelted like blunt-end needles. Lightning gashed the ink-black clouds. Just beyond the bridge, a tree exploded. A flash of white sparks shot into the air. Orange flames glowed through the trees but were quickly doused. So close. She stared at the aluminum cane. She was a human lightning rod.

“Jake will find us. It won’t be long.” Doubt edged his confident words.

Emily scanned the highway. Two cars, blobs of muted color in the tempest, had pulled to the side of the road. Looking for them? Most likely waiting out the blinding rain. “He’ll find us,” she echoed. Could he see them from the road? Adam’s shirt would look like Cardinal Bob through her handblown windows. “Any minute now. He’ll see the van and find us.”

Adam nodded, but his eyes reddened.

Seventeen months of training kicked in. She was the queen of distractions. “Let’s play a game while we wait.”

“O-k-kay. I s-spy something wet.”

Emily answered with an elbow jab. “Funny. Let’s play ‘Yes and No.’ Think of something or someone or a place that I would know of and I’ll ask questions. You can only answer yes or no and if I don’t get it in ten guesses, you win.”

“Okay. I got it.”

“Is it a person?”

“No.”

“Is it a thing?”

“Yes.”

“Is it in the boat?”

Jake held up three fingers. “No.”

“Can I see it from here?”

“No.”

“Is it within ten miles of here?”

“Um…yes.”

“Is it bigger than a car?”

“No.”

“Can I hold it in my hand?” Rain pelted her tongue as she yelled.

“Yes.”

“Is it made of wood?”

Adam shielded his eyes and turned toward the road. “No.”

“Is it made of plastic?”

“No.” He wiggled nine bluish fingers in front of her face.

“Can we do twenty questions instead of ten?”

“No.”

“Fine. You win. What is it?”