Fallen Grace (19 page)

I nodded. “Keep him safe, ok?”

“Of course.”

I lifted the baby up to my face and planted a kiss on his soft cheek. I carefully handed him over to the teenager who was now like a little sister to me. Danny slid our door open for us from the outside and held a hand out for me. I took it gratefully and stood, glad to have a chance to stretch. I walked around to the driver’s side of the van in search of Boggs as Danny and Susan helped Nathan.

Boggs was standing at the side of the road, looking into the distance. There were few trees or buildings here, just old farmland and swamps.

“Boggs? What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I was just thinking about everyone we’ve lost.”

I hung my head and kicked at the dirt with my toe. “It never gets easier,” I said. “Losing them.”

“I miss you, Zo.”

I finally looked up and nodded. “I know.”

“Thank you,” he said.

I looked at him with curiosity. “For what?”

“Ah. I dunno. Just…for not hating me, I guess.”

“I could thank you for the same thing.”

I put my hands in the back pockets of the jean shorts I was wearing.

“We should get back to the car. I feel like a sitting duck here.”

“I’ll be right there,” I said.

As Boggs walked toward the car, he stopped beside me. He paused as if he wanted to say something, but instead turned and placed his hands on both sides of my face. He kissed me softly on the top of my head. I closed my eyes and he kept walking.

We arrived at the Cultural Center in Neah Bay later than we had hoped. The detour Boggs’ had taken had landed us farther east than we had planned. Danny had taken over behind the wheel and I had suggested that Abbey sit up front with him so that Boggs could stretch out on the floor. Nathan remained in the back seat with his foot propped and Susan continued to sit beside him, holding his hand.

“Nathan?” I called to him as Boggs slept beside me and the baby.

“Hmm?”

“Something about this whole infection crap makes us heal faster. Have you thought about letting one of us…
”

“No,” he interrupted me. “I appreciate the thought, but I want to stay clean.”

“Clean,” I answered. “That’s an interesting way to put it.”

“No offense intended,” he said.

“No, no…it makes sense.”

“I just fear that it might progress in anyone who carries it.”

His words were like a slap in the face, reminding me of Gus. I nodded quietly and we rode on in silence.

We were all growing hungry so Susan retrieved a small bag of snacks from behind her seat that she and Abbey had packed. She handed Nathan a small can of Vienna sausages and held out a box of raisins, which she handed to me. I opened the box and took a small handful for myself before passing them up front for Danny and Abbey to share.

“Is there any water?”

“Sure.”

She reached behind their seat again and handed me two bottles. I passed one up to Abbey and Danny. By now none of us minded sharing. I nudged Boggs with my toe until he woke. He seemed a bit disoriented.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Lunch time,” answered Nathan, who held out the can of little sausages for him.

“Thanks, man.” Boggs took one of them and popped it into his mouth. “I never thought I’d actually say this, but these little suckers are good.”

Nathan held the can over to me next but I shook my head no. “I’m good with the raisins for now, thanks.”

“Hey Abs, Dan, you guys want some canned meat up there?” Nate called up front.

“Nah, were good,” said Danny. “That’s the cultural center up on the left.”

“Zoe? How’s it feel?” asked Susan.

“Clear.”

Danny pulled the minivan into the parking lot of the cultural center. “I’m gonna pull in around back where the loading dock is. Two summers ago I volunteered in the youth outreach program. They had trailers parked along the back fence for hauling the boats to public schools over in Port Angeles. It brought in extra funds for the tribe. Did anyone check for a trailer hitch on this rig?”

“Yup, it has one,” said Boggs. “Danny, any idea how much the canoes weigh?”

“I’m not sure exactly, but they’re made of red cedar, so are pretty damn heavy.”

“I’m sure the minivan isn’t meant to haul big loads, so we’ll need to take it slow,” interjected Nathan.

Once Danny turned the corner of the building we were all glad to see that one of the trailers was still parked there. He pulled up alongside of it and I did a final mind-check of the area. Declaring that it seemed safe everybody except for Nathan got out of the car to stretch. Boggs and Susan walked to the trailer to check its tires while Danny and Abbey sat on the hood of the car talking quietly. Baby Emmett was awake now so I changed his diaper and fit him into the homemade sling so that I could easily carry him. Nearer the water now, temperatures seemed a bit cool. I used a strip of cloth that we had packed along as a burp rag to wrap around his nearly bald head, trying to keep him warm.

Before long, Boggs instructed me, Susan, and Abbey to wait off to one side. He took his spot behind the driver’s wheel and Danny guided him back to the trailer. It took about 10 more minutes to hitch the trailer to the van. It took less time to back up to the loading dock.

For the sake of making the task of locating a canoe quicker, it was decided that the baby and I would wait in the car with Nathan. Susan tried to talk Abbey into staying with us, but she insisted on going with.

It seemed an eternity before the others came back. Boggs signaled for me to come up onto the loading dock, so I left baby Emmett with Nathan. Once I climbed the steps to join Boggs and the others, Danny explained that we’d need all of us to help push the rolling door upward. Without a working motor, the door proved to be extremely heavy. Once the door was opened, I smiled when I saw a canoe waiting. It was larger than I had expected, and looked like it would be more stable in the water than I had feared.

“How’d you get it to the dock?” I asked.

“She’s on wheels,” Boggs said as he winked at me.

“Awesome. But how do we get it onto the trailer?” I asked.

“Just a little muscle,” said Danny.

“We’re going to literally push it onto the trailer,” explained Boggs. “Gravity will help, but we have to be careful to not let it drop or it could crack. Danny and I will go below to help guide the nose. You and Susan will push it to us from up here. Once it’s lined up with the trailer I’ll attached the winch and crank it up to the front. See the little wheels that run both sides along the trailer?”

“Yes.”

“She’ll just roll on those.”

“Abbey?” I said.

“Huh?”

“I think we’ve got this. Do you mind helping Nate with the baby? Sounds like he’s starting to cry.”

“Sure.” she said.

***

It hadn’t taken as long to load the canoe onto the trailer as I had expected. Danny offered to drive to the shore since he knew where the closest car access would be. He assured Boggs that he could handle pulling the trailer and promised to drive slow and steady. Travel time from the cultural center to the shore was only about twenty minutes. Danny explained that we’d have to launch the canoe farther south due to a sight-seeing area that had been constructed at Cape Flattery. It allowed for foot traffic only, so there’d be no way to haul the canoe from the car to
the water. It would mean paddling up to an extra mile, depending on currents and wind. He had been taught to manage a canoe since before he was able to walk, so was our best resource. Nathan assured us he’d be able to help row. I echoed his offer with my own, as long as the baby would allow me to set him down.

I was nervous about traveling the open ocean. It was bad enough with adults, but adding a baby seemed so dangerous. There was no safety net. If we capsized, we’d likely all be lost. Danny had packed eight paddles into the body of the canoe, knowing we’d likely need extras in time. We packed our meager supplies into the bottom of the canoe. The sides of the boat were wider than I had expected, giving us ample room. Danny explained that the hull was stretched using water and hot stones to create steam. It allowed the wood to remain intact so that the natural grain added support. Clothes that had been packed into a laundry basket were emptied out and set under the bow seat so that Emmett could ride in style inside of the basket. I made him a nest of blankets and swaddled him tightly in hopes of him staying warm. Abbey tended to the baby as the rest of us rolled the canoe off of the trailer. Susan and I took turns moving small logs as it rolled along the beach, which was a lot easier than dragging the heavy boat through the sand. Unfortunately it was low tide, making the task take longer.

The sun was well past high noon, and we guessed we only had a couple more hours of daylight. The idea of staying ashore till morning was passed around, but the threat of the dead remained too great. According to Danny, there shouldn’t be anyone on Tatoosh Island. The Coast Guard station had long ago been abandoned, the fishing villages were seasonal, and the light house was unmanned. No one outside of the tribe was allowed to set foot ashore Tatoosh without written tribal permission. Arriving after dark was a daunting thought, though. We’d be facing new territory without the advantage of daylight. Flashlights and lanterns would offer little help in the scope of the situation.

Once finally to the water’s edge, we pushed on the canoe until the stern was afloat. Nathan was assisted in first. He sat on the bow seat and swung his leg over. His face was pained from the effort. He slowly made his way to the stern, climbing over the thwarts that ran across the center. I was instructed to climb in next, and told to stay low to avoid tipping side to side. Waves crashed into us, making the vessel feel unstable. I worked my way toward Nathan. Abbey and Susan followed, Susan carrying Emmett. She handed the baby to Abbey, who handed him to me. I placed him into the laundry basket and we all took hold of a paddle. Danny and Boggs took off their shoes and pants and handed them in to Susan for safe keeping. The two pushed on the canoe, launching us out to sea. Once they were knee-deep in the cold waters of the Pacific, they hoisted themselves in on opposite sides of the boat to prevent it from tipping. Facing the west, I looked out toward the horizon. Looming in front of us were the sheer cliffs and jagged rocks of our new home. With it came sadness, hope, and a renewed desperation to live.