Larkspur Cove (38 page)

“I know.” I squeezed her fingers, but I didn’t say any more. I wasn’t ready to, and she seemed all right with that. She didn’t push for more details. We just sat together listening to the river pass.

Friday night, while we were sitting out by her boathouse, we talked about her first couple visits with Birdie – two in three days, which was more than normal. She’d made the extra visit because the case had her stewing. I knew she wasn’t supposed to discuss the details of what went on in a session, but Reverend Hay had told me about all the things CPS wanted Len to do, so it wasn’t really any secret. CPS had a long list, and for someone like Len, it was way beyond what he would be able to do or pay for. Len didn’t understand it all, but he knew enough to be worried.

I was only halfway focused on the conversation. After a whole week of lunches in the woods and nights at the boathouse, it was clear enough to me that Andrea still didn’t want Dustin to know about us. I’d taken him to class all week, and he’d helped me with a few projects on the lake and with Pop Dorsey’s guardrails and hoist. Somehow, even the docksiders had figured out not to bring it up about Andrea and me when the kid was around. So far, Dustin didn’t seem to have a clue. I didn’t think I ought to be the one to tell him, so I just didn’t say anything.

It was getting to me, though. Sitting here behind the boathouse in the dark, I felt like we were still hiding from everyone and lying to her boy. I was worried about what he’d think when he found out. To my mind, it was better to make things public, to be honest about it – to just go ahead and have a real date. I started thinking through the possibilities, trying to come up with something good. We had a few waterfront restaurants on the lake – greasy spoons and Catfish Charley’s. There was a little movie theater down the road a piece in Cleburne, where folks from the lake did their real grocery shopping and went for hardware, paint, plumbing supplies, and that sort of thing. Back in the day, there’d been a drive-in movie theater in Moses Lake, but it’d been closed for years. The Eagle’s Nest Resort had a nice restaurant overlooking the water. I’d have to make reservations ahead for that. I could grill something over at my place, but the cabin wasn’t much to look at. . . .

“We’ll have to find some assistance for Len,” Andrea said, but my mind wasn’t in Chinquapin Peaks. It was closer to home. “But I’m still not sure the caseworker sees him as a decent long-term caretaker solution.”

“I think Len could be, if he had help fixing up his house, and someone to explain things, like how and when to get Birdie to the school bus once school starts, and why he has to. I think he’d try, and once it’s a routine, he’s pretty much a creature of habit. But he’ll be slow to understand it all at first. A guy like Len takes patience, more than anything,” I told her, and then we both sat looking at the lake for a minute, thinking.

“We’re about done with building Pop’s boat hoist at the Water-bird,” I said, finally. “While everyone’s got their tools out, I thought I’d get some of the docksiders together next week and head on up to Len’s to see if we can help shape up the place – just make a couple big days of it. Like one of those work frolics the Mennonites do, or a barn raising, only kind of the opposite.” I stared out at the lake, thinking about how to steer the conversation to another track. It was Friday night. Time to leave work behind. Time to talk about doing something tomorrow. Something out in public.

Andrea sighed, her fingers slowly shredding a dead leaf that’d blown onto the dock. She was dropping little pieces into the water and watching them float away. “Well, I think I’ve figured out how to help with the clothes and school supplies, at least. Sheila told me there’s a thing called Community Closet going on tomorrow afternoon at the Moses Lake gym. Several area churches and organizations hand out school supplies, and kids can shop through donated clothing and shoes. I offered to take Birdie there, and surprisingly enough, Len agreed. From what I could gather, they’ll be out at the Crossroads selling vegetables, and I can stop by and get her anytime after lunch. I hope he doesn’t change his mind.”

“I doubt he will. Len’s mind is pretty one-track.” Right then, my mind was, too. But it wasn’t on Len. “If it’s Saturday, you can figure he’ll be out by the state park entrance all day, catching the weekend crowd. That’s got to be pretty boring for a little girl. He’s probably happy you offered to take her off his hands for a while.”

“I guess.” Andrea watched the bits of dead leaf float toward shore on the moonlit water. “Birdie still has such a long way to go before school starts, though. She’s barely communicative.”

“Give it a little time.” I tossed a pebble from the dock and sank one of her little leaf-boats. “You can plow a field in a day, but you can’t make the crop grow.”

She dropped the rest of the leaf and nudged me with her shoulder. “You’re right.” She turned my way, and I would’ve kissed her, but that was where all our conversations ended. This time I wanted to get some things said. Now was probably as good a time as any.

“So how about we hit the lake tomorrow morning for a while – you, me, and Dustin? He’s been after me to take him on up the river channel and show him the caves with the mammoth fossils. My partner’s covering the lake this weekend. I’m off work. Free as a bird.”

Where I’d been hoping for another smile and something like,
That sounds good,
instead, she pulled away and looked at me like a squirrel caught in the middle of a six-lane highway.

“I can’t.” The answer was quick, like she didn’t even have to think about it.

I hoped she meant she was tied up working tomorrow morning – behind on those reports she was always plugging away on in her living room late at night.

“Well, Hay’s got a dinner on the grounds planned at Lakeshore Church on Sunday after service – horseshoes, swimming, homemade pie, that kind of thing.” Not my favorite sort of shindig, but it was sure enough public. “Dustin has it in his mind to go, by the way – don’t know if he talked to you about it yet. Cassandra and her folks will be there, if that explains anything. You know, maybe we could even talk Len into bringing Birdie down. You said she needs to be around people.”

“Oh . . . I don’t . . .” It was pretty obvious that Dustin hadn’t mentioned the Sunday dinner to his mom yet. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind that I’d let the cat out of the bag.

Andrea’s shoulder shifted away from mine. She pushed her palms together and tucked her hands between her knees, her head bowed forward, so that her profile was a shadow against the moonlight. “Mart . . . I . . .” She didn’t have to finish the rest of the sentence for me to know I wasn’t going to like what was coming next. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I don’t think . . . Dustin isn’t ready for something like that. He’s finally finding his feet here, healing a little bit, even. I can’t take the risk of . . . derailing him.”

“Risk?” Maybe I was just worn out after a long week, or maybe this game of cat and mouse with Andrea was finally getting to me, but aggravation buzzed around me like a mosquito looking for a place to land. “I’m not sure I see how a day on the lake or dinner on the church grounds is a risk.”

She stiffened, her back straightening, her chin coming up. “I can’t have him getting his hopes up.”

“Getting his hopes up for what, exactly?” Wherever her train of thought was, I’d just been left behind in the dust.

She took a breath, held it a minute before letting it out, looked down at her hands. “I know I should have said something earlier, Mart. I’m sorry . . . I just . . . I haven’t been thinking . . . the way I should. I’m a mom. I have to consider Dustin first. It’s my job to protect him.”

“Protect him from
what
?” The words came out sharper than I meant them to, but by now, I was irritated. All this hiding behind the bushes was ridiculous. We were both adults, after all.

“From being disappointed again. From having his heart broken. From having false hopes. He’s already been through so much. He’s had someone he idolized, someone he loved and needed, who was supposed to love him and protect him, just toss him out like yesterday’s toy. He’s vulnerable, fragile.” She flipped a hand through the air, then tucked it between her knees again. “He doesn’t need anything else to think about. He needs stability, safety. He can’t handle anyone else coming and going from his life.”

Coming and going.
Those words painted an ugly picture. It stung, and I was offended. “So you’re saying you think I’m the kind of guy who’d spend time with your boy just to impress you? That if you and I called it off at some point, I’d just drop him like a hot potato?”

She huffed a breath, like I’d misunderstood her. “I’m not
saying
anything. I just can’t take the chance. He can’t handle another heartbreak.”

“He can’t, or you can’t?”

“I have to think of Dustin. . . .”

The muscles pulled tight in the corners of my jaw. This was like talking to Laurie about Levi’s birthday. No logic, all emotion. “So it’s better to just lie to him? Sneak around in the dark?” One thing I’d never been was a diplomat. It wasn’t like me to tiptoe past a situation.

“I’m not . . .”

I didn’t wait for her to finish. “So what happens when he hears about it from someone else? People around here aren’t stupid, you know. They’ve figured it out.”

She pulled further away, looked at me. I read the shock in her voice even though I couldn’t see her face – just the outline of her hair, moonlit around the edges. “
Who
has? What are you talking about?”

“People know, Andrea. They’re not blind.”

She scooted back and stood up, and I did, too. “
Who
knows? Did someone say . . .”

A sudden glow flushed across the yard, and she jerked toward it, catching a breath when she saw that the back-porch lights had come on, and a floodlamp was flickering to life, illuminating the upper part of the yard. Someone was moving around in the house, turning on switches.

“I can’t do this, Mart,” she said, then hovered there a second. Finally, she added, “I have to go.”

Before I could say anything else, she was gone.

What we seek, we shall find;
what we flee from, flees from us.

– Ralph Waldo Emerson
(Left by Danny G., walking coast-to-coast
on one good leg, after cancer)

Chapter 21

Andrea Henderson

Panic crashed through my mind like waves at high tide, my emotions a brackish mixture of embarrassment, confusion, self-reproach, guilt, fear. I’d created this moment – built it one phone call, one moonlit conversation, one kiss at a time, and now I was terrified of it. The idea of going public, of involving Dustin . . .

The screen door slammed behind me, shutting out the night as I rushed onto the porch. Instead of being in bed, Dustin was in the utility room on the lower half of the split-level. I saw him through the French doors as I crossed the back porch, wiped my eyes, and slipped inside. The mother in me instantly became suspicious. What was Dustin doing down there this time of night? Sneaking out? Hiding something? My heart sank. This past week things had finally seemed to be getting better. He had the old bounce in his step. Surely it wasn’t all an act, a smokescreen.

Part of me didn’t want to know. I couldn’t handle one more unexpected collision right now. I couldn’t. I felt like I was cracking in half – half Dustin’s mom, half . . . someone else. A person I didn’t recognize. Part of me liked that other someone, the girl who ran through the dark to the lakeshore at night and made a difference on the job during the day. Part of me felt the need to go back to what was safe and comfortable – the old Andrea Henderson, who kept everything under control and did what was expected.

I startled Dustin on his way across the living room. “Mom! Where’d you come from?” he asked, jerking back, wide-eyed. He looked nervous, out of sorts, his hair sticking up in all directions.

“I’ve been here,” I answered, and instantly tasted guilt. Which one of us was lying now? Who was sneaking around, hiding things?

Dustin’s nose wrinkled in confusion.“I looked all over the place. I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“I was outside.” The half-truth pressed my chest, emptying it like a billows, holding it closed, so that catching another breath was difficult. Everything about this was wrong. Doing things I had to hide from my son was wrong. Mart was right – I was lying to Dustin. I was lying to both of them. Letting Mart believe I could be what he needed was wrong. I wasn’t what anyone needed. I didn’t even know where my own life was going.

Even if Dustin was unaware of the details, he could tell that something wasn’t kosher. “In the dark? The porch light wasn’t even on.” He blinked, as if trying to get a better view of me, to figure out who I was and what I’d done with his mother. How many times had he heard me repeat the diatribes I’d inherited from my mother.
A
gated community isn’t gated along the shore.You never know who might be
on the lake. Watch out for snakes. Mosquitoes carry diseases. Don’t forget
to spray . . .

“It’s nice out this time of year.” The answer was intentionally vague. “Is something wrong? You look upset.”

“Dad called. Didn’t you hear the phone?”

“Dad?” The word caught in my chest.“Your dad called?”
Now he
decides to call? At eleven thirty on a Friday night?
“What did he want?” Clearly, Dustin was upset. What had Karl said to him?

Dustin moved closer to the phone, as if he thought it might ring again, and it was urgent that he not miss the call.“He wanted to talk to you. He was really . . . He was crying and stuff, and he needed to tell you that . . . that . . . He just kept asking for you. I was looking around the house, and then I went downstairs, and . . . and I couldn’t find you, and then he said . . . he said . . . And then the phone went dead, and he didn’t call back.”