Leaving Unknown (18 page)

C
ongratulations, graduations!” I sang to my brother.

“Thanks.” Brick’s voice was gruff, pleased, but too cool to admit it.

“I’m proud of you.”

“Hey, I didn’t do anything you didn’t do.”

I snorted. “Except in half the time.”

“Yeah but…” We let the thought trail off, still in the habit of not talking about it.

“Know what you’re going to do this last summer before the rest of your life?” I filled the space.

“I haven’t decided. I’ll either deal drugs to housewives out of an ice-cream truck, or get a job at the Enterprise Rent A Car in Myrtle Beach. I figure that would make me the first guy to meet the girls coming to town. Snap ’em up fresh off the plane.”

“‘We’ll pick you up’
is
their motto. So you’re going back to Arthur’s Deli?” I guessed.

“Until I find a real job.”

“Let me know how that ‘real job’ thing works.”

“Right. Haven’t you taken over a bookstore or something?”

“Not quite yet.” I laughed. “I’m sorry I’m going to miss your graduation ceremony.”

“Mom and Dad said they’d pay for the ticket if you want to fly back,” he reminded me.

“I…” I couldn’t find the right words.

“I understand.” He cut me off. “You’re not ready to come back yet.”

“No,” I admitted.

“Aaah, it’s just a bunch of guys wearing dresses and funny hats giving long-winded speeches. You’re not missing anything.” There was another pause. I’d missed my own ceremony, quietly leaving school with my diploma in December. I hadn’t felt connected enough to want fanfare.

“Thanks for understanding,” I said. “Try to soothe the wounded souls of your frat brothers when they realize I won’t be there.”

“I’ll make them grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.” He named our favorite comfort foods. “I’m glad you’re staying out there, kid. I like seeing you go for it like this. You’re gonna knock it out of the park.”

“You too, Mr.
summa cum laude
,” I said. “I love you up.”

After I hung up, I sat for a moment looking at the kachina in my hands. It was the fifth one, a ring of small creatures, maybe squirrels, maybe possums, maybe bear cubs. They were a team, whatever they were, the cluster supporting each other and a rounded roof above their heads. It made me think of my family, and their support. Even as my brother approved
my decision not to return for his graduation, I wanted him to know that all the family’s attention wasn’t sucked up by me. We’d join forces to hold protection over him his whole life too. It was time to pass the mantle of being the baby of the family back to my little brother. The comforting statue was hard to part with, but my decision was sure. I carefully packaged the kachina for its trip to the post office and beyond, to my brother on his big day.

“Maeve, sweetheart, would you be a dear and pick up some sherry for me? You know I like a little nip before bed.” Busy intercepted me on my way out.

I did indeed. Her “little nip” amounted to two or three bottles a week.

“I don’t know how you drink that crap,” came April’s predictable growl. “Scotch. Now that’s a real woman’s drink.”

“It’s so I can tolerate you. I prefer the Oloroso, dear. Preferably Lustau.” As if I didn’t know.

“Okey dokey, smokey. April?”

“Copy of
Family Handyman
magazine.” I stopped and faced her, hands on hips. No way was I putting ammunition for mayhem into her hands.

She glared, then huffed. “All right, all right. I promise not to tape the sink sprayer.” She confessed to the prank that had soaked me and Oliver, causing him to skyrocket and bonk himself woozy on the ceiling. I kept staring. She threw up her hands. “How was I supposed to know the bird would be on your shoulder? I’m sorry he hit his head. Jumpy creature…”

I didn’t move. She sighed. “And I won’t put bouillon cubes in the shower head again.” I’d smelled like beef broth for days after my unexpected soup shower, feral cats hounding my steps. Samuel had developed an intense work schedule, refusing to stay over until Sandy treated my hair with strawberry
deep conditioner. I wasn’t falling for any more of April’s practical jokes.

I relented. “I’ll get you a nice gardening magazine. I could use some help out there.”

“I’m not doing any damn gardening until it’s my turn to take a dirt nap. It’s a hobby for death’s door,” she grumbled. Then her face contracted in horror. “Maeve…”

“Life’s a garden, April,” I said. “Dig it.”

“Frou frou hippy bullshit,” she groused.

“Hey April, what did the Zen monk say when he wanted a hot dog?”

She snorted.

“Make me one with everything. And if you untie the lines around my desktop items by the time I get back, I might even get you some colored Sharpies.” I’d been poised to pull out the chair when I’d spotted the fishing line strung between the legs and my desk set, prepared to tumble it all to the floor when the seat was pulled out. April’s face fell as the sound of Busy’s giggles followed me to the kitchen.

Oliver and Lulabell were in her cage on the table.

“Nice hair,” said Oliver. Sadly, I didn’t think his compliment was directed at me.

“It’s starting to look like the Romantic Palace in there,” I commented.

“Legs up and give me some,” said Lulabell.

“Make that the Playboy Mansion,” I revised. “I’m off to the post office and the store.’

“Road trip! Don’t forget the bird!” said Oliver.

I paused. I hadn’t really had much Oliver time. He preferred Lulabell to my shoulder these days. “You want to come, buddy?” Jenny didn’t really like it when he came to Up Market but she’d get over it. Oliver hopped on my finger, and I settled
him on my shoulder. He ran up and down, excitedly tugging hair out of my braids.

“Carrots! Howdy pardner.” He looked expectantly at Lulabell. “Nice hair!”

Lulabell mirrored Oliver’s movements back and forth across her perch, crest feather up and down. “Howdy there! Howdy!”

“You want to come, Lulabell?” I’d never taken her on an outing before but I didn’t see the harm. I was getting Jenny’s dirty looks anyway. She couldn’t make them dirtier. Lulabell hopped on my open hand, and I settled her on my other shoulder. I grabbed the recycled grocery bags and Ruby’s list and headed out the door. I walked toward the square considering whether to stop by Barney’s first. So far, he hadn’t made any real progress on Elsie. We were still in limbo, waiting for that one missing part. His Portuguese was improving though. He could ask for seven different kinds of pharmacologicals now.

It was when Oliver bit my ear that I noticed the clouds. They were coming in fast. One thing I continued to marvel at about Arizona was the rapidity with which the weather changed. What had been a sunny day looked to be a humdinger of a storm. I knew enough to know that I’d better get inside. Oliver didn’t like storms. I had no idea how Lulabell would react.

I picked up the pace. I didn’t have time to get home, so I’d hole up in the bookstore until it passed. Oliver was pressed so close to my neck that he was practically in my ear. Lulabell was rocking anxiously. As I stepped into the square, thunder sounded like a crack, making me jump. And Lulabell flew away.

My jaw dropped. Lulabell could fly. Cockatiels were clipped not to fly, but Lulabell could fly, and I had taken her outside. Did I have the worst luck on the planet?

“Lulabell!” I called, frantic. I scanned the treetops but didn’t
see her. Thunder cracked again and I saw the flutter of a terrified bird. She was thrashing among the branches and I was petrified she would hurt herself. I was also horror struck at the possibility that she would fly away. Ruby would kill me.

“Lulabell!” I cried again, but my voice was drowned out by the commencement of falling hail.

I started shaking. My bird was freaking out, and Lulabell was flying farther and farther away. Never taking my eyes off her in case I lost her, I cupped Oliver in my hands. Think. How did you get a free-flight bird down from a fifty-foot tree in a hailstorm? And what was wrong with me that I assumed Lulabell couldn’t fly just because I’d never seen her do it? Hail beat on my head as I stood helpless.

“Maeve, what’s the matter with you? I’ve been calling. Get inside!”

I didn’t even look at Noah. “Take Oliver.” I held out my hands, cupping the bird, eyes still on Lulabell.

“Are you crazy? Come inside!”

I chanced a quick look. “I can’t,” my voice cracked. “Please. Look after my bird.”

He stared. Without a word, he took Oliver and hurried back to the store. Within minutes he was back, shaking a jacket over my shoulders. Rain mixed with the hail.

“What is it?”

“Lulabell.” I pointed. “I…I…it’s all my fault.” I fought tears.

His mouth was grim. “What do we do?”

“Give me your phone,” I ordered.

Noah handed it to me and I dialed. “Bruce? I have an emergency and I need you to do something.” I forced my voice to be calm.

After giving him instructions, I hung up and focused on the bird. Lulabell fluttered agitatedly from branch to branch.
I made clucking and calling noises. I even propositioned her. Anything to keep her close.

When Bruce arrived fifteen minutes later Noah and I were both soaked to the bone. He’d brought what I’d requested, and Noah unloaded the ladder and rope while Bruce extracted Lulabell’s cage. I kept my eyes glued to the bird. When Noah started to climb the ladder, I shouted, “No!”

He stopped. “Maeve, it’s wet and slippery. Be reasonable.”

“I’m going.” No way was anyone else going to get hurt because of me. “She knows me better.”

“You can’t manage the cage…”

Without a word I tied one end of the rope around the cage handle, and other into a thick knot. “After I climb, throw me the knotted end of rope.” I was already on the ladder.

Bruce started to object, but I gave them both a look. They shut up.

I climbed past the top of the ladder into the branches, then turned to catch the rope. I caught it on the first try, then hefted the cage. I balanced it on a branch, and began pulling myself from branch to branch, lugging the cage after me. When I’d climbed as high as I thought I could go, I found a good branch and hung the cage, door open.

“Lulabell,” I called to get her attention. I backed down a bit and sat on a branch to wait. I almost wet my pants in relief when the panic-stricken bird flew to the safety of her haven as soon as she saw it. Cockatiels are homebodies. I closed her inside and made more soothing noises. Shivering in what was now a cold rain, Lulabell didn’t look comforted. I carefully reversed my course out of the tree.

When I handed the cage down to Bruce and Lulabell was safe, I started shaking. I had to pause at the top of the ladder for some deep breaths before I climbed all the way down.
Noah was hovering anxiously. So was Bruce, but for different reasons.

He shut Lulabell in the truck, and squinted at the sky “I don’t like this storm. Too much rain too fast.”

“I’ll bring Oliver home,” said Noah. “Ride with Bruce. Go get dry.”

I shook my head. “I’d like to walk,” I said. The rain had all but stopped, and the five-minute walk made more sense than ruining Bruce’s lovely leather seats. Plus, I wanted to collect my thoughts.

“Don’t tarry,” Bruce advised. “Rain could start again anytime. Hard to say what this storm’s got left in it.”

I nodded, and set off on foot. My pace was rapid as I berated myself down Main Street, up Orange Street, and along Emerald Street, one eye on the sky. I tried to prepare words for Ruby. I dreaded the look in her eyes. I hated looks more than words. I tried not to remember eyes above a surgical mask, the look when she thought I wasn’t aware. I tried not to think about what I’d temporarily forgotten, that I was a girl who stung those close to her, even when I tried to do the right thing. I was too tired. Bad luck had won. All I wanted to do was give up and go to sleep.

I
gathered my courage at the doorstep, then stepped into the kitchen to face Ruby. Her back was to me, as she packed a bag at the kitchen table at a greater speed than her normal high efficiency. She sensed me enter and turned.

“There’s been an accident. We’ll need your help. Please gather as many extra blankets as you can find in the hall closet. Hurry now.”

I shut my mouth and did as I was told without a word. I changed into a dry sweatshirt and rain jacket, and grabbed all the blankets I could carry. When I returned, she was loading her Volvo wagon with thermoses and jackets. I added the blankets. She collected and tested an enormous flashlight, with a radio and siren built in. It was still early, and light enough despite the gray sky, but I held my tongue. She would tell me in good time. We got into the car, and she turned west.

“Where are April and Busy?” I asked.

“The rain this afternoon flooded Harshaw Creek and weakened the banks at the bridge. The seniors were going on a trip to early-bird dinner in Sonoita in their bus when one of the banks gave out and the bridge collapsed, likely from the vehicle’s weight. The bus is in danger of falling into the flooded water.” Ruby’s white knuckles on the steering wheel belied her even tone. “I don’t know more than that. April, Busy, Helen Rausch, Elsa Morrow, Diane Wall, Lupe Ortiz, and Henrietta Mankiller are trapped on the bus, along with Liz, who was driving.”

A shiver ran down my spine as icy as floodwater. I couldn’t bear the image of Busy being swept away by roiling brown mud. My knuckles were as white as Ruby’s when we pulled up to the collection of flashing lights and vehicles clustered at the south end of the bridge.

It was a disaster scene in miniature. The creek wasn’t wide, maybe thirty feet across, but it was wider than the bus was long. The bridge had failed on the north side, bank crumbled, and now angled from the south bank straight into the water. The bus was tilted, tail in the water, nose pointing up at a hypotenuse angle. The fierce current of the swollen creek was tugging at the tail and west-facing side of the bus. The immediate threat was obvious. The south bank, sustaining the bridge, and the bus, looked dangerously unstable as currents buffeted the saturated mud and the dangling concrete.

Ruby hurried over to where Samuel stood, a few feet back from the bank.

“Everyone is on the bus, and seems unharmed aside from bumps and bruises.” He answered her unspoken question as he settled his jacket around my shoulders over my thin one. “But Helen…” He pointed. I squinted. There were six frightened faces that I could see, sitting very still in the first two rows of the bus, and Liz in the driver’s seat, but no Helen. I looked at Samuel.

“At the back.” His mouth was grim.

I spotted her. Helen had tumbled to the bottom of the bus and was clinging to one of the bench seats. From her knees down she was submerged in filthy water swirling around the rear door.

“The impact with the side of the bridge must have jarred open the door.” Ruby’s voice was tight. Samuel gave a sharp nod. “But how did Helen end up there?”

Samuel met Ruby’s eyes. “Liz was driving the bus…”

“…So Helen sat in the back row,” Ruby finished with a shake of her head. “Can we get blankets down to them?”

“Too risky,” Samuel said. “We don’t want Liz to open the door, in case the water rises. Also, we can’t risk adding any weight or getting too close to the edge of the bank until Barney secures the tow rope to the front of the bus.”

Bruce and Barney were deep in conversation. Barney was shaking his head.

“The weight is likely to cause the whole bank to collapse. I’m afraid to get too close.”

“Can we come at it from the other side?” asked Bruce.

“I called Simon Bear. He’s driving in from the north with John Buell, but it’ll take them twenty minutes to get here. Even then, it’ll be a trick trying to attach the towrope. That water’s fierce even for those guys, and the tail of the bus is farther from the bank.” Barney’s prognosis was not cheering.

“What about the ladder from the extension fire truck over at County? Can we stretch it out over the bus and harness them ladies to safety? Forget the bus.”

“Mebbe. Still worry about weight on the bank. Fire truck can be farther back, but it’s heavier. Could collapse this side jes’ like the other. That’d be bad.”

“Work with me, Barney. We’ve got to do something,” Bruce begged.

Rain started to fall again as Noah and Tuesday pulled up. Right behind them came an ambulance and the county ladder truck. Bruce hurried to stop the vehicles well back from the edge of the creek. More people arrived as word spread through town, a crowd of locals forming a ring, prepared to help however they could.

“What can we do?” panted Tuesday. Ruby raised her hands helplessly.

“This is bad.” Noah looked up at the rain.

Barney took off his cap, smoothed his hair, and replaced it. “Mebbe we could extend the tow cable and get Ronnie to climb down. He’s pretty nimble. Not ideal with the tow back that far, but lower risk of stressin’ the bank.”

Bruce frowned. “That’s askin’ a lot of Ronnie.”

“He’s the lightest.” Samuel agreed with Barney.

“I’ll do it, Chief,” Ronnie said.

“Can we secure him to something?” Noah asked.

“There are life jackets on the ladder truck,” Ruby said. “Can you make a harness out of one with a rope? Then he’s attached, and has a life preserver on, just in case.”

“Good idea, Ruby,” Samuel agreed, as Bruce nodded. “I’d like to send down jackets for the ladies on the bus too, if Ronnie can safely secure the tow cable on the front axle.”

“The thing is going to be speed,” Bruce said. “Once we start, we got to do this as fast and as safely as possible.”

I didn’t have much to contribute. Samuel and Noah worked together to fashion a harness for Ronnie, while Bruce and Barney peered over the bank and debated how close they dared back up to the creek bank. Tuesday stood close and rubbed my shoulders to help us both stay warm. We watched Barney back the tow truck to within ten feet of the bank. We held our breath as Ronnie struggled with the tow cable toward the lip of the creek, clambering across the riven concrete. He attained
the front of the bus and rolled onto his back to hook the cable around the axle.

“I need more cable,” he yelled.

Bruce and Barney exchanged worried glances, and Bruce nodded. Barney put the truck in reverse and backed up inch by cautious inch.

“I got it!” Ronnie shouted, and everyone cheered, when there was a horrible grinding sound. A section on our side of the bank gave way, and the near right lip of the bridge shuddered and slipped a foot, tilting precariously and causing the rear of the bus to fishtail downstream. Barney put his truck in drive, wheels spinning without traction. Under increased pressure, the collapsed cement piling on the far upstream side crumbled further. Without its support, the bottom of the bridge sank another three feet into the relentless current, steepening the bus’s angle.

The back door of the bus was torn open completely, and Helen Rausch lost her grip and washed out, arms flailing against the torrents sweeping her away.

“Get the truck!”

“Get the ambulance!”

“Throw a life preserver!”

Voices cried all around me, but I knew there was no hope for that. Helen was bobbing away quickly. The fields were too rutted for any vehicle, and the nearest crossover road was miles down the creek. I wasn’t good at much. I couldn’t even take care of a pet bird. But there was one thing I could do, and that was run. I grabbed a life preserver off the pile and started sprinting. I could sense people running after me, but I quickly outpaced them, Samuel’s jacket fluttering from my shoulders back toward them. Weeks of practice made me sure-footed on the uneven ground. I never knew how fast I was,
because I’d never run
toward
anything before. I kept my eyes glued to Helen. My feet ate the ground, and soon I overtook her. I looked ahead to a bend in the creek, and sited my target entry. There was an S-curve in the creek that even the floodwater hadn’t conquered, leaving a shallow beach and protected spit on the far side. I clocked Helen’s progress, her eyes rolling with fear, and judged my timing. I launched over the lip of the bank, grabbing an overhanging tree branch with one hand and dangling over the water. For once, luck was on my side, and Helen passed the curved spit of land close enough for me to grab hold of her.

The weight of her body, combined with the pressure of the water, almost snapped my wrist. The one clutching the tree strained as well. I was strong, but both the water and Helen were fighting me.

“Stop thrashing!” I yelled, but she was like a wild animal. I wasn’t going to be able to hold her with one hand. I let go of the branch. The freezing water took my breath away, but I didn’t have time for shock. If I went into deeper water with Helen, we didn’t stand a chance. The little peninsula was providing a limited barrier against the churning water. I thrust my feet into the silty bottom for traction and used both hands to haul Helen to my chest. Her flailing elbow connected solidly with my eye and starbursts exploded. My grip loosened from pain and surprise and she started to slide away. I recovered my hold and concentrated on hauling us back toward the beach. The life jacket was more hindrance than help, and my frozen hands scrabbled to grasp the surprisingly strong woman. Inch by inch I used the creek bed, branches, anything I could, to leverage us further into the lee of the spit. At last, the water released its suction, and I heaved our bodies onto the beach. I lay gasping for air on my back, Helen crushed against me.

“Over here!”

People descended. Several hands rolled Helen from my chest. The scene was chaos.

“Bring the stretcher!”

“We need blankets!”

“Are you insane?” Noah shouted. “You could have killed yourself!”

“Noah, hush. She saved Helen’s life,” Ruby chided. To me, “That was something, Maeve.” She reached for my hand to help me up, and I cried out. Samuel was there in an instant.

“Let me see.” His gentle fingers probed my wrist, while Ruby helped me sit up. Someone wrapped a jacket around my shoulders.

“I’m fine.” I used my other hand to push to my feet.

“Stretcher!” Samuel and Noah shouted at the same time.

“No,” I protested. For once I didn’t need the reassurance of Samuel’s care. “I can walk.” I couldn’t stop beaming. “I can
run
!”

“You sure can.” Bruce voiced admiration.

My smile faded. “The bus…”

“It’s secure on the cable. Firemen are getting everyone off. They’re facing a lot less risk than you did,” Bruce said.

“Let’s get back.” Noah’s tone was impatient. “You’ll catch your death.”

He took my elbow, and Samuel stepped close to my other side. I shook them off.

“I can walk by myself.” In fact, I felt great.

We crossed the field back toward the road behind EMTs porting Helen on a stretcher.

“Samuel,” I said. “You need to go.”

He shook his head. “Her vitals are stable. They’ll take her to the hospital and keep her overnight to be sure. There’s nothing for me to do. I need to get you to the clinic and X-ray that wrist.”

I wanted to protest, but common sense dictated that my wrist needed seeing to. And I was thrilled to be going to the clinic, and not to the hospital with Helen. We reached the road in time to see a fireman handing a cable-clipped Liz from the bus to a waiting fireman on the safety of the road. The rest of the seniors were bundled in blankets, clutching thermoses. Everyone looked shaken but unharmed.

“I think you’re going to have to take them all in,” Ruby said.

Samuel nodded. “Sorry,” he said to me. “Looks like this won’t be a speedy stop.”

“I don’t mind. I’d rather make sure everyone is okay.”

We piled into various wagons and trucks to be chauffeured to the clinic. Despite Samuel’s objections, I made him see the seniors first. They were being stoic, but I could tell Lupe and Busy were exhausted. Other than bruises and Busy’s elevated blood pressure, my hairline wrist fracture was the only injury of note. Samuel wrapped it tightly. When he was done and I was in dry clothes, we headed for the door. I was starving. To my surprise, the waiting area was packed with people. Everyone was there. They stood when they saw me, and began to clap and cheer. Blood rushed to my cheeks, and I hung back, but Samuel shoved me forward to accept the attention. Immediately, I was surrounded by well-wishers, congratulating me and patting me on the back.

As one creature, we migrated out of the clinic and down to the Wagon Wheel. Tuesday had gone ahead to warn them, and tables had been pulled together. Within minutes plates of potato skins and pitchers of beer appeared. Everyone chattered excitedly, relishing the retelling now that the danger had passed. Tuesday handed me a beer and cried, “To Maeve!”

“Hear! Hear!” Everyone shouted, even Liz Goldberg, who might have secretly regretted that her Helen problems weren’t gone forever.

I couldn’t stop smiling. I went to the bar and ordered a cheeseburger. “Make it the size of my head,” I instructed. I was ravenous.

“That’s on me.” Noah appeared at my elbow.

“Naw man, it’s on the house,” said Vic, the bartender.

Noah looked me over. “Are you really okay?”

I nodded, grinning.

“You’ve had quite a day.
Two
rescues.” It was hard to believe only hours had passed since Lulabell flew off.

“Three,” I corrected. “I rescued my desktop items from an April prank.”

“The fishing line? Good catch.”

“I’m on my game,” I said.

“You’re a mess.” He smiled back. I was. Ruby had brought clean clothes to the clinic, but my hair was all over the place and I smelled like wet soil. “I’m sorry I yelled,” he apologized. “I thought I was going to have a heart attack when you jumped into the river. Breathing underwater is only for made-up people.”

“It was the only way.” I shrugged.

“Try not to do it again,” he begged.

“Try to take better care of your seniors,” I countered.

“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted. I turned to a man with Jerry Orbach hair and Danny DeVito stature. “Chuck Hall.” He introduced himself. “Are you Maeve Connelly?” At my nod, he said, “I’m with the
Daily Dispatch
.” He named the regional paper. “We’d like an interview, if you’re up for it. We want to do a feature on the rescue.”