White Water (2 page)

Kara agreed, but didn't say anything. When Mom was alive, she made sure the entire family got together at least once a year. All except for Grandpa Sheridan, of course. Grandma Sheridan had died before Kara was born, and Grandpa had moved to Ireland shortly after. Still, Mom had always done her best to keep the family close.

Kara wrapped her arms around the older woman's slender shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. Aunt Peg's skin was brown from the sun, but still smooth, and she smelled like apple blossoms.

Her aunt returned the hug with a firm squeeze. Aunt Peg might be ten years older than Dad, but she was far from old in body and spirit.

“I accept the blame,” Aunt Peg continued. “Your dad did invite me at Thanksgiving and Christmas, but there was just too much to do, and your grandfather kept insisting he
wanted sun, sun, sun. I don't know why, when he's spent most of the last five months with his head buried in that old trunk in the garage.”

What old trunk?

Before Kara could ask, Aunt Peg said, “Sit and I'll pour you some coffee.” She pointed Kara toward a chair and reached to grab a mug from one of the open shelves above the gleaming, white stove. Everything in the modern kitchen was either black or a sterile, gleaming white
.

It's so clean, Mom would say we could eat off the floor
. Kara giggled, and Aunt Peg flashed her a questioning look.

She started to explain, but a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the room.

“What on earth?” Aunt Peg clutched her chest and nearly dropped the coffeepot. Kara froze, then jumped up and sprinted out the back door.

“Ryan! What's wrong?”

Her little brother stood at the edge of the concrete patio, yelling, jumping up and down, and clutching his right hand as if he were trying to keep it from flying away.

She took hold of his wrist with one hand and grasped his shoulder with the other. “Hold still and let me see!”

“Oweee! It hurts, Kara!” he screamed. “Get it off, it's sticking me!”

“Wakara! What's going on?” Dad ran up behind her, while Grandpa and Aunt Peg closed in from the other side.

“I'm trying to find out.” She tugged his hand harder, “Ryan, did something bite you? Let go and let me see!” Her heart pounded as she thought about black widow spiders, scorpions, and rattlesnakes—here in Arizona it could be any of the above, and they were all poisonous.

Aunt Peg saw it first. “Good grief, he's gotten into a saguaro.”

“A what?” Kara looked closer. Sure enough, Ryan's palm was plastered with dozens of tiny splinters. “Oh, Ry, your hand looks like a pin cushion.”

He started howling again, and Kara could have bitten her tongue. She looked up at Dad. “Sorry! Looks like he grabbed a cactus.”

“I'll get the tweezers.” Aunt Peg hurried back into the house.

Dad bent down to Ryan's level and took his hand. “Wow, I bet that smarts. Come on, let's get you inside and get these things out.”

Ryan sniffed as Dad picked him up and turned to follow Aunt Peg. “I just wanted to pick one flower,” he moaned.

Grandpa Sheridan chuckled. “Well now, lad, some flowers are for picking, but some flowers are best left alone.” He patted Ryan's leg as Dad stepped past, then nodded at Kara. “I'm thinking he's just beginning to learn the difference, eh, Wakara?”

Kara started to ask what he meant, but she was interrupted by another scream from Ryan.

Grandpa winced. “Our Peggy will be pulling out the thorns. I think I'll take a little walk.”

Kara watched him stroll around the side of the house and heard the latch rattle on the wrought-iron gate. She hesitated. A walk did sound good. Better yet, a nice long canter on her mare, Lily, across the meadow just behind the barn back in Lariat, or on the forest trail.

The smell of turkey drifting from the open kitchen window reminded her that there were still a thousand things that needed to be done for dinner. Aunt Peg wanted to celebrate all the holidays they had missed being together. Kara had thought it would be cool to celebrate Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter all at once, and it was—but it was also going to be a lot of work.

She sighed and looked back at the nearby giant saguaro cactus. A flash of white against the red-rock landscape caught Kara's eye. She bent down and studied the large, white blossom. It was beautiful. So was the desert, if you looked closely enough. And Aunt Peg's house might be ultramodern, but Kara had to admit it did look nice, and the tile floors were comfortably cool as well as pretty. She inhaled the warm, clean air, then picked up the flower Ryan had dropped and carried it into the house.

“T
HANK
Y
OU
, L
ORD
,” D
AD PRAYED
,
“for all You have done for us.” He went on to list the amazing ways God had provided for them in the year and a half since Mom died, and Kara found herself silently echoing his praise. A few months ago, she would have had a hard time finding anything to be thankful for, but now she realized that even though Mom had died, God was still concerned about the ones left behind
.

God had brought Anne and Colin into their lives and had saved them, as well as her and Ryan, from a forest fire. God had also helped her to find Dad and Greg when they were trapped in a blizzard.

“And most of all, Father, we thank You that Greg is healing, and ask You to be with him and our other loved ones today. Amen.” Dad's voice broke a little on the last sentence. When they raised their heads, Kara noticed everyone's eyes were bright with tears—as were her own.

Dinner tasted fantastic. Kara polished off a plate of turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, homegrown green beans, stuffing, and a wedge of pumpkin pie.

Aunt Peg had broken off an aloe leaf, rubbed the gel on Ryan's sore palm, and bandaged the hand with a piece of white gauze
.
Just like Anne would have done,
Kara thought. She
was surprised at how much she missed Anne. The Nez Perce woman had become more than just a housekeeper and cook. She was a close friend as well—almost like a second mom
.

Kara's thoughts were interrupted when Aunt Peg offered her a second piece of pie. Kara groaned and clutched her stomach. “Thanks, but I can't squeeze in one more bite.”

Aunt Peg grinned. “I'll save you a piece of pumpkin pie for later tonight.”

Ryan followed Dad and Grandpa into the living room, and Kara heard him begging to watch a movie. “Not now, Tiger,” Dad said. Then they heard the voice of an announcer yelling, “A swing and a miss, and the Giants close out the second inning with the score San Francisco three, the Mariners nothing.”

Kara peeked into the living room. “Isn't it a little early for baseball?” she asked Aunt Peg.

Aunt Peg chuckled. “Not down here. This is where a lot of the teams hold spring training. It must be an exhibition game.”

Kara carried a stack of dishes to the sink. “Oh. I guess I'm just surprised Dad's watching it. He hasn't watched baseball, or any sports on TV, since Mom died.”

Aunt Peg cleared her throat. “Well, then I think it's about time he did, don't you?” She loaded the last dirty plate into the dishwasher and turned it on, then poured another cup of coffee.

“Come sit.” She patted the chair closest to her at the kitchen table. “Tell me about Wakara. Are you doing okay?”

Kara didn't have to ask what she meant. Aunt Peg wanted to know if she was getting over the grief of losing Mom.

“I'm okay. Most of the time,” she admitted. “I mean, it's still really hard, but I don't cry as much as I used to.” She focused on the brightly colored place mat under her coffee cup and felt tears form as Aunt Peg's hand covered her own
.

Oh, right. I don't cry anymore. And I'm an excellent liar
.

“You're healing. But it will still take time.” Aunt Peg patted Kara's arm and took a sip of coffee.

“Anyway, from what your Dad tells me, you haven't exactly been sitting around brooding. A forest fire and a blizzard, all in three months' time.”

Kara looked up and couldn't help but grin at her aunt's puzzled expression. “I guess it is pretty weird, isn't it? God's teaching me stuff though.” She sighed. “It's just that sometimes I wish He'd slow it down a little.”

Aunt Peg laughed. “Well, at your age, I would think you'd have all the time in the world to learn. He must be training you for something special.”

“Whooeee, it's out of there! Didn't I tell you, Harley?” Grandpa Sheridan's voice boomed through the house and seemed to echo clear across the desert. “That rookie's an up-and-comer. I'll tell you now, he's going to take the Giants all the way to the pennant.”

Dad's answering laugh held a spark of excitement Kara hadn't heard in awhile. “It sounds like they're really enjoying the game,” she said.

Aunt Peg nodded. “Sure. If it's not baseball, it's football or basketball. Your grandfather's been watching sports every weekend since he's been here. He's done that since I was a child, and I don't suppose they broadcast much baseball in Ireland.” Her expression softened. “It's good to have him home for a bit.”

Kara decided to ask some of the questions that had been bothering her ever since she found out Grandpa was coming to the States. “Why'd he move to Ireland in the first place? We don't have relatives there anymore, do we?”

“That is exactly what he went to find out.” Aunt Peg grabbed her sewing basket, picked up an embroidery hoop, and began working on a counted cross-stitch project. “I guess
after Mama died he felt like he needed to find his roots, so to speak.” She studied the pattern she had laid out on the table, then picked up her needle and began a new design
.

Kara cleared her throat. “Well, did he? I mean, he's lived there so long.”

Her aunt shrugged. “I'm not sure.” She threaded the needle with several strands of Christmas Green. “I think he just fell in love with the place. Like I fell in love with Phoenix. I wouldn't go back to Portland if you paid me.”

Kara winced.
And I wouldn't move to Phoenix if you gave me a million dollars
. But she kept that thought to herself. Instead, she decided to ask the question she'd been afraid to ask.

“Aunt Peg? Why did Grandpa come back now? He's not sick or anything, is he?”

“Sick?” Her aunt looked startled. “No. At least I don't think so.” But she frowned as she folded the needlework and put it back in the basket. She thought a minute, then shook her head. “No. He made the decision to come right after I wrote him about your great-grandfather's trunk. It's been stored in my garage for years, but since I moved here, I really don't have room. I asked if he wanted me to send it to him or put it in storage. He called me the day after he got the letter and told me not to be in such a hurry, that he'd come and see to it himself.”

She frowned again. “I did think that was a bit odd. But then, your grandfather always has had some strange ways.” She laughed. “They say he inherited his stubborn, inquisitive streak from old Irish. Once he gets hold of an idea, he won't let it go.”

She leaned closer, and Kara had to bend her head to hear. “He's been out in that garage every day since he arrived. I've hardly seen anything of him except his backside bending over that trunk. But when I go out there, he stuffs it all
away and shuts the lid. Like I haven't had over thirty years to see it myself.”

Kara grinned. “What's in it, Aunt Peg? What's the deep, dark secret?”

Aunt Peg actually snorted, and Kara swallowed hard to stifle a laugh. “You'll have to ask him that—if he'll tell you. I can't get a straight answer out of him. All I've seen are books and papers and stuff.” She looked a bit sheepish. “I guess I just never took the time to look very closely.”

It was late Saturday night before Kara had a chance to ask Grandpa Sheridan about the trunk. He narrowed his eyes, looked at the ceiling, and then busied himself lighting his pipe.

“All in good time, Wakara. All in good time.”