Ana of California (30 page)

A
gainst her better judgment, Abbie did as Ana asked and left her alone for the night. She peeked out of her bedroom door a few times, but the light in Ana's room remained dark. She didn't know what to say to her or how to explain Emmett's temper and the long saga behind it. She didn't know how to talk to Emmett either, so she decided to give in to her routine.

She headed downstairs to start breakfast. Eggs, toast, homemade jam, and a cup of blackberry tea were Ana's favorites. She busied herself and waited to hear the footsteps upstairs. Still, she heard nothing. By the time the food was ready and she checked the time, she knew something was wrong. She hadn't heard the alarm clock go off either, so her mind began jumping to conclusions. She ran through the back door and out to the barn. Emmett's lights were on, so she knocked on the door.

“Hello,” he grumbled in the doorway, his face hanging, his eyes barely open, the smell of scotch on his breath.

“I don't want to talk about last night,” Abbie said. “Just come with me.”

“Why?”

“Because Ana hasn't come downstairs and I'm worried.”

“Probably overslept. Has a tendency to do so . . .”

“Just come with me.”

He reluctantly followed, shushing Dolly's barking. They crossed through the garden—Abbie quickly, Emmett struggling to keep up—and into the house.

“Listen,” Emmett said, leaning against the counter. “I don't know what happened yesterday but . . .”

“Not now.”

Abbie continued up the stairs and to Ana's door, knocking on it once and then twice, but there was no answer. She slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open. The early morning light was dim, but it was enough to see that Ana's bed was made and she wasn't in it. “Oh my God,” Abbie said. She pushed the door open all the way and went inside. “Oh no.”

“What is it?” Emmett asked, making his way into the room and sobering up at the implications.

Abbie began systematically checking under the bed, in the armoire, and behind the curtains as if Ana were playing a cruel game of hide-and-seek.

“She's gone,” Emmett said.

“No, she's not.” Abbie darted to the bathroom, checking behind the shower curtain. She ran to her own bedroom and checked in every possible place including out the window before running downstairs.

“She's gone,” Emmett said at the top of the stairs as Abbie
shuffled around the living room making a frantic mess, her hands holding on to the sides of her face. “She's gone,” he said again, the words drifting away and then sinking back in.

He walked over to Ana's bed, picked up her sketchbook, and began flipping through it. He stopped at a detailed drawing of a house—Garber Farm—with Abbie standing in front surrounded by a lush garden sprouting wildflowers and vines of pickles. There were empty jars of marmalade rooted to the ground and a chicken pecking at a shriveled tomato. On the porch, seated in a rocking chair, was Emmett, Dolly seated dutifully by his side. Upstairs, in the window, watching over it all, was a solitary shadow barely shaded in. At the bottom of the paper, written in needlepoint print, was the word “sweet,” with blank lines on either side of it, as if waiting to be stitched together to read “Home sweet home.”

“You're going through her things at a time like this?” Abbie shouted frantically from the doorway.

“Look at this,” Emmett said. He turned the page to another drawing. It was a pencil sketch of two interlocking women's bras—one small and black with messy triangles, the other sturdy and straightforward but covered in a pattern of what looked like backward threes. It was an odd drawing, Emmett thought, even if it was astonishing in its skill. At the bottom of the page, written out in graffiti, were the letters
BFF
.

“We've shattered her heart,” Abbie said, on the verge of tears.

Emmett closed the notebook. “Honestly? She either snuck out to see Rye or, if my hunch is correct, Cole Brannan. Either way, I'm calling the police.”

Emmett headed downstairs to the phone. Abbie paced in Ana's room. She opened up the armoire and sitting on the
Frida Kahlo book at the bottom of it was a map of Hadley and surrounding areas. She grabbed it and ran downstairs.

Emmett hung up the phone, his hand lingering on the receiver. He took a deep breath, trying to both compose himself and keep from passing out. “Cole's gone too,” he said as Abbie leaned against the counter in semirelief. “His mother called last night and reported him missing. Said he'd taken his father's motorcycle. The police haven't started a search because they figured it was just a teen boy doing what teen boys do, only he's doing it with, well . . . our Ana.”

Abbie held up the map.

“I think she's gone for good.”

 • • • 

I
t was midmorning when Alder Kinman showed up at the front door of Garber Farm with a paper bag in his hand. Abbie ushered him into the kitchen where Emmett and Manny were talking to the sheriff and two policemen. “Heard what happened, gentlemen,” he said. “Brought some honey and some news.”

Abbie rested her hand on his arm and whispered, “Not now.”

“We've already searched the woods behind the house but still have a few of our guys doing a final sweep,” the sheriff said. “There's not much more we can do since it hasn't been twenty-four hours and, technically, it looks as though both parties left willingly like most kids in love do, like a few others I know have done in the past,” he said, clearing his throat and nodding knowingly at Emmett.

“We need to find her,” Emmett said.

“I understand that, but usually in cases like this, the kids come back and apologize and continue doing what kids do in the parking lot of Hadley High. I wouldn't worry.”

“But she's our responsibility. What are we supposed to do?” Abbie asked.

“Wait. If she's not back by tomorrow, give us a call.”

The officers shook Emmett and Abbie's hands and headed out the front door. Emmett paced back and forth, shaking his head. “This isn't enough,” he said. “We have to do more.”

“Got honey, got news,” Alder Kinman repeated.

“Kind of you to bring it by,” Abbie said. “We're just in the middle of a crisis at the moment.”

“Heard all about it, whole town's talking.”

“We're just trying to figure out what to do,” Abbie said, Emmett still pacing across the room, Manny sipping a cup of coffee at the kitchen table. “But we appreciate your concern.”

“I'm concerned all right, especially with that storm coming. It's set to hit hard this afternoon. Worried about those two kids being up north.”

“What are you talking about?” Emmett asked.

“They went up north to the state park.”

“How do you know that?”

“Eli told me.”

“Who's Eli?” Abbie asked.

“A friend.”

“Where is this friend and how does he know where Ana is?” Emmett said, raising his voice.

“Emmett,” Abbie said, gesturing for him to calm down.

“Well, he lives in the forest and makes it his business to patrol the areas up north. I saw him this morning and he said they're up there.”

“Did he see them?” Abbie asked.

“No telling. He has a strong intuition.”

“Where is this man?” Emmett said. “I want to talk to him myself.”

“Well, that's going to be difficult because he's got other things to do this afternoon. He lives by his own credo, as most bears do.”

“Are you telling me that Eli is a bear?” Emmett asked.

“Yeah, boy.”

Emmett ran his hands through his hair and went out the back door.

“Can you tell me more about what Eli said?” Abbie asked Alder politely. Manny raised his eyebrows.

“Well, he said they were up somewhere near King's Pass. I say we gather all the folks we can and get a search going before the rain hits.”

Abbie looked at Manny, who looked back at her.

“Emmett!” she shouted.

 • • • 

I
t was a quick drive to the Moons' house down the road, but to Abbie it felt like an eternity. She bit the side of her cheek, not caring that she was chewing a hole through it, and went over everything she'd handled poorly. As far as she was concerned, this was entirely their fault. Ana was the reason she and Emmett were getting along again. She was the reason the workers stayed and seemed to enjoy coming to work more than ever before. And though he was unable to see it and would never admit to it, she was the reason Emmett was breaking his wicked spell.

Abbie parked in the Moons' driveway. She walked across the gravel and thought of Ana out in the woods somewhere, hopeful that she was smart enough to know that she was wanted, that she was loved, and that there were people coming to get her.

“Come in,” Della said, opening the door, her face uncharacteristically tense.

“Thank you,” Abbie said, holding back a wave of tears. “I have something for Rye. I thought she might be of help—that is, if she wants to be involved. Ana has run away.”

“We heard.”

“Della . . . I don't know what to say other than I'm sorry. I should have called you the other night, I should have told you what happened yesterday morning when I brought Rye back. I . . . I'm not good at this.”

“I accept your apology,” Della said, opening her arms, the two old friends embracing. “That girl has been beating herself up all morning and is still grounded.” Della walked to the foot of the stairs and called up to Rye, who was already on her way down. “What do you have to say to Abbie?”

“I'm sorry for what I put you through the other night.”

“It's quite all right.”

“And I'm sorry for lying about Ana.”

“What do you mean?”

Rye looked to her mother, who nodded back. “I lied to my parents and told them Ana forced me to take the mushrooms, but she didn't. She wanted nothing to do with it. But I think that's why she ran away.”

“Well, we can't do anything about that now.” She handed the BFF drawing to Rye and watched her face as it lifted and fell.

“I'm going to kill her when we find her,” she said. “I mean that in a good way.”

 • • • 

T
hey decided to form teams with Emmett as the lead and head contact. One group fanned out along the southern border of the park, while another headed farther up north to the park's main entrance. Will Carson joined Abbie and
the Moons. Manny rounded up the boys to accompany Emmett, with Rolo in particular wanting to get started as soon as possible. Alder Kinman suggested they check local campgrounds too. “Something tells me that's where you'll find them.”

Manny drove with Emmett in the passenger seat of the truck. He'd known his boss for a very long time, had learned to gauge the ever-shifting moods. But in all the years, through all the circumstances and heartbreak, he'd never seen Emmett this thoroughly unsettled.

“I know what you're thinking,” Manny said. “We'll find her.”

S
he woke up and wondered where she was. It was damp outside, thick clouds swelling overhead, the fresh air mingling with morning drizzle. Her nose was cold and there was someone wedged in next to her. Ana turned her face and there was Cole, looking serene with his eyes closed. She sat up and realized they'd fallen asleep.

“Oh my God,” she said. “Oh. My. God. Wake up!”

She gently shook Cole, who barely stirred.

“It's the next day!” she shouted, frantic. “Get up!”

Cole opened his eyes as Ana got up and began pacing around the campground. There was a rustling out in the forest, possibly a deer or fox. She glanced at the watch, being reminded of its previous owner, whose spirit still ticked along with it.

Cole finally came to, the realization of their predicament sinking in. As he woke up, the drizzle turned into steady drops of real rain, and the branches began swaying overhead.
Cole jumped up and folded the blanket. They both picked up the remnants of their late-night feast, surprised they hadn't been attacked by some wild animal for a morsel of cheese.

“I'm going to be in so much trouble,” Ana said.

“So am I.”

“They're probably already buying my return ticket to L.A.”

“I may have to join you. . . . Is this the way we came in?” Cole asked. There were several clearings in the trees, none of them marked.

“I don't remember, didn't notice. Haven't you been here before?” Ana joked.

“I have, but now there's a trail over there,” he said, pointing in the opposite direction, “and one over there too.” Turning toward a wider path on the opposite side of the grounds, he said, “I should have checked the perimeter last night.”

“This is a problem,” Ana said.

“I think it's the wider one. The trail most people use is always the widest one, right?”

“I'm going to say yes and hope we're right.”

They headed down the wider trail into the trees. It was flat and smooth as they wound in and around the massive trunks keeping them dry under the branches. The path narrowed up ahead, and Ana wondered if Cole noticed it too. It seemed as if they'd been walking longer than they had the night before, but Cole soldiered on, grabbing her hand to help her over a fallen tree crossing the pathway.

“I don't remember this tree,” she said.

“Maybe it fell over in the night.”

“You really don't know where we're going, do you? I can tell by your expression that you think we're going the wrong way too,” Ana said.

“This feels like the right way.”

“Except that it's not. It's raining and I don't think it's safe to ride on a slick highway if the weather gets worse.”

“Ana. I've been riding since I was a kid. We have all the time in the world to get to where we're going.”

“No, we don't,” she said, feeling out of breath. “I'm doing it again.”

“What?”

“Screwing it all up.”

“We just fell asleep; it's not a big deal. Just tell them the truth when you see them.”

“I don't get yelled at or grounded, okay? I get sent to live in a group home with a bunch of other people like me who have had the worst of the worst. I've done it twice before, and I'd rather stay here and live off the land than go back to that.”

“Hey,” Cole said, worried. The Ana he'd always seen was calm and in control. This Ana was losing it. “Let's head back the other way, okay?”

“It won't change the fact that we're late and that I'm completely done here. That everything—the farm, the Garbers, Rye, you—all of it is going to go away.”

“You don't know that's going to happen,” he said, reaching for her hand. “There's no sense stressing about it now when there's nothing you can do.”

“But there's something I could have done,” Ana said, moving her hand away. “I could have avoided you just like Emmett told me to.”

“Why are you freaking out?”

“Because this is serious to me, okay? This is it for me. I don't have a family to go back to. I don't have another chance.”

“Why don't we calm down for a minute . . .”

“Don't tell me to calm down. Why aren't
you
freaking out? You have two parents and a sister who love you. They're
probably sick with worry. I can't believe that I'm worried about people who probably don't even care about me, and you have people who actually do and you could care less.”

“Whoa, wait. Where is this coming from all of a sudden?”

“I just . . . I just don't think you know how great you have it.”

“Oh, so it's great that my mom cries every night and drinks herself to sleep because she's devastated by my dad. It's great, as you say, that my younger sister purposefully crashed her dirt bike—twice—just to get their attention. I grew up in a big house, yes, and with two parents, but they've fought every day of my life. They've put us in the middle of their battles and pitted us against each other. Yeah, I may have done some acting out last year, but the fact that their punishment was to send me away and then lock me down for the entire summer was awful. I'll never forget how happy they looked to leave me in the middle of the wilderness with a bunch of people who actually have serious problems. The only thing they've agreed on in as long as I can remember is getting rid of me.”

“They spent tons of money on you to hike in Yosemite for a couple of months. I'm sorry, but that doesn't sound too terrible.”

They both stood there in the middle of the forest, the rain pelting down and the wind picking up and whirring through the trees.

“I think your parents' marriage falling apart has nothing to do with you. You have a place to live and people to take care of you—a family—that's something I'll never have. Have you ever thought about what that's worth?”

“Do you not think you have anything that's worth something?”

“I have a file,” she said. “It tells several sad stories, all of which are written down so nobody will forget, especially me. When I hear people talk about their ‘home' or their ‘family,' I always want to tell them that even their ability to use those words is all I've ever wanted. Try being locked in a house for days while your parents go off somewhere to get high or forget about you altogether in the backseat of their car. Try getting a dog as a kid only to watch it get beaten and then eaten alive by other dogs. I watched that happen, in our backyard, and I've had to learn how to live a different version of that story so it doesn't haunt me at night. Try hearing gunshots across the street, next door, in your own house, and then finding your mother on the couch covered in her own blood. Try going to live with your grandma afterward, who loves and cares for you, who is the family and the home you've always wanted, only to have her gunned down by the same hands that killed your mother and stole your father and all because she walked down the wrong street. I've been shuffled from house to house, stranger to stranger, no one ever wanting me or believing in me or having faith in me. And I carry those people, that backwards three on the back of my neck, every day wishing, however terrible it all was, for them to come back.”

Cole stepped closer and put his arms around her, even though she didn't embrace him back. “I'm not in your file,” he whispered. “Neither is Rye. Abbie and Emmett are a new chapter.”

 • • • 

“A
na!” Abbie shouted.

“Ana! Cole!” Will echoed behind her.

“This is pointless,” Abbie said, stopping in the middle of the trail.

“We're not giving up,” Will said. “If she's out here, we'll find her.”

“She took off before we had a chance to explain. This is all my fault,” Abbie said, shaking her head, and starting to walk faster. “I can't believe I got so upset about that stupid album cover.”

“I can't either. I used to pray to that woman.”

“Now you'll probably shout at the devil.”

“Did you just make a heavy metal joke in the middle of a crisis?” Will asked, putting his hand on her arm.

“I'm delirious,” Abbie said. “Don't read too much into it. But . . . well, I think it's flattering that you're my only fan.”

“I told Ana about how I worshipped that album. I think she found it randomly, sort of like you found her.”

Abbie stopped and took a breath.

“She's more mature than you give her credit for,” Will said.

“She reminds me of me at that age, which is ironic considering I did this exact same thing to my father,” Abbie said. “Only when I ran I didn't come back until there was significant crash and burn . . . and an album to prove it.”

Rye and Della caught up with them, Della clearing the thicket with her walking stick. “A fierce spirit always finds her way back—and she will.”

“Seriously, Mom, she's been making out all night with a hot dude on an ironic motorcycle on the open road. They're probably holed up in some diner making eyes at each other over a plate of waffles,” Rye said, sauntering past them and continuing to call out into the trees.

“I can't seem to shake this ominous feeling,” Abbie said. “I can't seem to stop shaking.”

 • • • 

“A
re you sure this is the way?” Ana said.

“We've tried every other path; this is the only one left,” Cole said, taking her hand.

They continued walking down the muddy trail, the rain lighter and dripping from the trees.

“So, are you finally going to enlighten me about what's going on between the Brannans and the Garbers?” she asked, stopping in the middle of the trail. “I've earned this story.”

“It's not easy for me to talk about.”

“If I get shipped back to L.A. without hearing about what caused the rift, I don't know what I'm capable of doing. And please don't say it's solely about land.”

“Emmett should be the one to tell you.”

“Well, he's not here, so go for it.”

“The land was an issue at first—”

Ana put her hands over her ears.

“Which is how my dad met Josie.”

Ana's hands shifted to her mouth. “No.”

“Yes. They ran off together a little more than a year ago. They left us all handwritten notes, of course, because it's only polite, right? Ours was left on the fridge—have no idea where Emmett found his. But they took off to the Bahamas, then to New York, then back to San Francisco, where he bought her an apartment, apparently, and moved in without looking back, except for when his wife refused a divorce, and then he moved to Keyserville. Now, he splits his time in
between. My mom still refuses to divorce him, so she started throwing parties with his money instead.”

“Hardcore.”

“I think that's also why she's purposely been ordering catering from Abbie.”

“Double hardcore.”

“My sister's begging and pleading didn't bring him back, nor did my bonfire party or stint in Yosemite. He still sends money in his absence, but I refuse to touch a cent.”

“Why not?” Ana said, skipping up ahead. “We could have flown to Portland.”

She waited for his laugh, or a snarky comment, but when she turned around, she froze.

 • • • 

A
makeshift command center had been set up near the entrance to Kenyon Park. Emmett's and Manny's trucks were parked along with those of various townsfolk who had joined the hunt. Abbie and the others were surprised to see a few police cars in the mix, including the sheriff's.

“I thought you said they didn't want to do a big search,” Della said.

“They didn't. But it's not like they have anything else better to do,” Abbie said.

The sheriff emerged from behind his car with a distraught Nadine Brannan behind him. Two other police officers stood nearby taking notes.

“But that's his motorcycle!” she yelled.

“I know it is, ma'am, and that's why we've got our guys out on the trail searching. They're in here somewhere. My guess is they got lost, which happens all the time up in these parts.”

“He left his credit card and his cell phone on the kitchen counter in plain sight for me to see. If that doesn't scream suicide note, I don't know what else does.”

“Mrs. Brannan, we have all the evidence to believe that your son left of his own volition. We're trying to rule out something happened to these kids in the forest. We lose hikers out here all the time with this kind of weather. We're doing the best we can.”

Abbie watched as Nadine's face dropped. It wasn't because she wasn't in control or that the police were unwilling to make her son a priority; Abbie realized that she was suffering as a mother, and no one was noticing that. Abbie walked over as Nadine stood there, her face blank.

“How are you holding up?” Abbie asked.

“Not well. If these idiots would actually get out there and do their jobs properly, maybe we'd have found my son by now. There's no telling where he could be, and they're losing time by limiting the search to right here because of some crazy beekeeper's bear theory. It's the most ludicrous thing I've ever heard of! I could kill my husband for moving us to this place.”

Abbie refrained from saying anything she'd regret, especially the part where Alder Kinman found Cole's motorcycle near the entrance to the park. She chose to respect Nadine's pain as a mother even if she didn't understand the woman's undermining platitudes. “I can empathize with how worried you must feel.”

“And how is that?”

“I'm only measuring it with what I'm feeling about Ana, and my fears and worries for her well-being. I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you.”

“How can you begin to relate when you're not a mother
and you've never had children of your own? You don't have the slightest inkling of what this feels like; so spare me the empathetic concern.” Nadine stopped herself. “I'm . . . I'm sorry,” she said, taking a moment. “I had no right to say that. It's . . . it's been a long night and a tough year.”