Lovely Wild (16 page)

She’d also been signing.

THIRTY-TWO

KENDRA HAD GONE
to the top of the mountain again, searching for a cell signal. She’d waited until Dad and Ethan left for the Humane Society because, after the peacock got killed, she knew her dad would’ve told her she couldn’t leave the yard. Maybe her mom would’ve, too. But she needed to talk to Sammy, bad.

Except Sammy didn’t answer her phone. Kendra got voice mail. Taking a deep breath, biting her lip, Kendra dialed Logan’s number. He didn’t answer, either. They were probably talking to each other, Kendra thought sullenly and thumbed Sammy a text before slipping the phone back into her pocket.

She’d wait a few minutes to see if either of them answered her, but, restless, she didn’t want to sit while she did. She’d avoided the creepy crooked cabin, which meant staying in the trees instead of being in the clearing. Her feet crunched branches and twigs slapped her in the face as she pushed through, waiting without much hope for the vibration of a return call.

The snap of branches behind her didn’t bother her the first time she heard it. But the second time, Kendra froze. Heart in her throat, she turned and saw nothing. She heard something, though.

Breathing.

Heavy, harsh. Another snap of twigs and shuffling like feet in the soft bed of leaves covering the ground. A low, muttered voice like a growl.

“Go,” it said.

Kendra didn’t think twice. She ran. Hard and fast, ducking branches that whipped at her face, scratching. With a quick glance behind her, she saw a figure, impossibly tall. Shadowed. It reached— Oh, shit, was it coming after her?

She jumped a fallen tree and skidded in the dirt, on pebbles, twisting her ankle. She hit the ground with a cry and rolled, getting to her feet as fast as she could. A fingernail broke off against a rock, and pain throbbed throughout her entire body.

The mountainside was steeper here than the path she’d climbed up, and Kendra fell again immediately. She skidded, sometimes on hands and knees, sometimes on her butt. She hit a flatter piece of ground and pushed herself to her feet again.

Sweating, hair in her face, she heard the sound of running water. The creek. She was almost to her backyard, or at the very least close enough to safety that she could turn around and look behind her again.

Nothing. Nobody chasing her. Not even a shadow in the distance.

Panting, Kendra pushed herself harder, anyway. Jumped the creek. She tumbled out of the trees and into a clearing to the far right of her house, on the opposite side of the barn and field.

She was filthy. Her palms scratched. A welt on her cheek stung, and she’d bitten her tongue.

Worst of all, her phone was gone.

It was too much. Kendra burst into tears. She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other until she got into her backyard, where she found her mom hanging sheets and towels on the line.

“Kiki? What’s wrong?” Her mom was there at once, holding Kendra’s shoulders.

Kendra spit out the story about the cabin and the cell signal and the voice that had told her to “go.” The figure of the man, looming. Being chased. And, finally, about her phone.

“Oh, Kiki. Your dad’s going to be so angry.” Her mom shook her head, but put an arm around her shoulders. “But...you said there was a little house? And...a man?”

Snot bubbled out of Kendra’s nose. “Yes. It sounded like a man.”

“A real man?”

Kendra frowned. “Well...yeah. I mean, not like a Bigfoot or whatever.”

Her mom looked past her, into the woods, her gaze far away. “What did he look like?”

“He was in the trees. And he chased me.” Kendra paused. “Not that hard, though, I guess. I mean, if he’d wanted to catch me, he could have.”

Her mom gripped her shoulders harder, a strange look on her face. “He didn’t touch you?”

“No.”

“You didn’t see him?”

Kendra shook her head. “Just heard him.”

“No more going into the woods, Kendra. Do you hear me?” Mom looked fierce.

As if she would, after this. Not even to look for her phone, which, even if she could find where it had fallen from her pocket, would probably be broken. Kendra drew in a sniffling breath and nodded.

“Do we have to call the police again?” she asked.

Her mom shook her head. “I doubt it would do any good, since he didn’t actually do anything to you.”

“He scared me,” Kendra said.

Mom hugged her close. “Just stay out of the woods, okay?”

“What are we gonna tell Dad about my phone?”

Her mom sighed and rubbed at her eyes. “I’m not sure.”

Kendra wiped her face. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Why?” Her mom looked surprised.

“For going up there after everything else that happened. Being stupid. Losing my phone.” Kendra burst into more tears.

Her mom held and shushed her, which made Kendra feel dumb, like a baby, but also better. She rested her head on her mom’s shoulder and hugged her, hard. They stood that way for a few minutes.

“They’ll be back soon from the Humane Society. Why don’t you come inside, take a cool shower. Get cleaned up.” Her mom smiled. “We can make tacos for dinner, okay?”

Her favorite. It didn’t do much to make her feel better, not yet, but Kendra nodded. She hugged her mom again, and headed for the house. She looked back just before she turned the corner toward the front door.

Her mom was motioning toward the forest. Over and over, the same small set of gestures. She’d seen her mom do something like that a lot over the years, but this was the first time it sent a chill down her spine.

Where are you?

It was a game they played, her and mama. Kendra hiding, mama looking. Kendra giggling, silent. Mama moves her fingers, talking without her mouth.

Where are you?

“I’m here!” Kendra pops out from behind the couch. “I’m here!

She watched a moment or so longer, but her mom had stopped. Now she just stared into the woods like she expected an answer to her silent question, but from who? And Kendra watched, her throat closing, also waiting for an answer, but none came.

Mom turned. “Let’s go inside.”

THIRTY-THREE

THEY’D NEVER HAD
a pet other than carnival goldfish, but Ryan hadn’t thought too hard about the decision to get a dog. He’d already half promised Ethan before they came here, and once the peacock showed up dead in the barnyard it had seemed like the most natural choice. Christ, what a mess. And to make things worse, when they’d come out after dinner to bury the damn thing, all that remained was a few bloody feathers and a mess in the dirt—whatever had killed it must’ve come back and carried it off.

The Lebanon County Humane Society was almost an hour away and had dogs to spare. Ethan had wanted to take home every mongrel they saw, but in the end Ryan convinced him what mattered was that the dog was big and could bark loud enough to scare off any foxes that came into the yard.

They settled on a mutt with one bent ear and one standing straight. Something like a German shepherd and collie mix, with silky black fur, a white bib and a tail that whipped back and forth so fiercely it created its own breeze. The dog had looked up at them from its pen, tongue lolling, and given such a sharp series of barks Ryan had known it was the right one.

He’d never had a dog growing up and honestly had never much wanted one as an adult, but as soon as he looked at that mutt’s face, Ryan knew what to name it. “Chompsky.”

Ethan guffawed, eyes bright as he hugged the dog around the neck. For a moment, all Ryan could do was stare at his son, too aware that he’d never had such a moment with his own father. Sure, when he got older he and his dad had been okay with each other, but...never like this. When Ethan left the dog to hug Ryan, small arms going tight around his waist, all he could do was soak it in with gratitude, because he knew his son’s affectionate nature had not come from him.

The dog rode nicely in the car and leaped from it as soon as they got home, sticking close to the kids even without a leash. It had some training, at least. Ryan watched, amused, as Chompsky tried with little success to herd them all together. Definitely some border collie, then.

Mari waited for them in the kitchen. She stood quietly at the sink, turning but not startling as Ethan and their new pet scrambled through the doorway in a tumble of laughter and fur. She hadn’t protested when Ryan had said they were going to get a dog to protect the house and the chickens. Watching his wife from the doorway, Ryan realized uncomfortably he’d never considered the reasons why she might not want a dog.

“Mom! Look! Isn’t he great? His name is Chompsky,” Ethan said, one small hand on the dog’s collar and his feet skidding along the tile floor as he tried unsuccessfully to keep the mutt from jumping up on Mari.

“Lame name,” Kendra put in. “Guess it’s better than Zipper, though.”

“I liked Zipper, but I like Chompsky better. Chompsky! See, he knows it!” Ethan laughed as the dog left off its pursuit of his mother and jumped to lick at his face.

Through this, Mari stood silent and still.

“Babe,” Ryan began, but when she held up one hand, he shushed.

Mari tilted her head, studying the dog that now sat back on its haunches to give her a slobber-tongued, doggy grin. Then slowly, slowly, she got onto one knee, almost like a man proposing marriage. She reached out one hand, not quite close enough to touch the dog’s silky fur.

“You want to pet him, Mama?”

The dog whined and went down onto its front paws, rear in the air, tail wagging so fast it became a blur. Mari mirrored the position, adding a small yip that Chompsky echoed. In the next moments, the dog was all over her, slurping and licking at her face while Mari laughed and tried to fend off the attack of affection. Ethan joined in a moment later, the three of them romping until Chompsky rolled onto his back with his legs splayed and gave Mari another yelp.

Ryan froze watching this, a replay of one of the videotapes running through his head. Young Mari had behaved this way in the playroom at the hospital, though there it had been with a large stuffed dog, not a real animal. Now she sat up to give him a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her fingertips found the dog’s belly and she rubbed while Ethan chattered about how they’d chosen the dog, the name, how he was going to teach Chompsky all sorts of tricks.

“He’s part border collie,” Ryan said.

“That’s nice, honey,” Mari murmured, never looking away from Ryan’s eyes.

Ryan swallowed, the moment passed. There was nothing here but a dog happy in his new home and a family delighted to have a new pet. Even Kendra had consented to crouch on the floor next to her brother in order to rub Chompsky’s fur.

“I’m going to get to work on the book.” He paused when his wife got off the floor. “You okay with this, babe?”

Mari gave him that head-tilted look, that faint smile. She nodded just slightly. “Like you said, we need a dog. It’s good for the kids.”

Still, he hesitated in the doorway. “And...you’re okay with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He might’ve been imagining the faint challenge in her voice, which would’ve been totally unlike her. “It’s supposed to be housebroken. That’s what the people at the pound said, anyway.”

His wife gave him a steady stare. “And if he’s not, it would hardly be the first time I’ve cleaned up dog shit. Would it?”

All at once he wanted to hold her. Pull her next to him, close his eyes, breathe in the scent of her hair. He wanted to back up time and forget he’d ever thought about bringing her back here. They could find a way to make ends meet without this book. He could put all the files and folders away and take his family away from this place.

But then when she turned and spoke to the dog, making a subtle, barely there set of motions with her hands at the same time, Ryan knew he wasn’t going to.

THIRTY-FOUR

MARI’S HAND HURT.
Punctured, holes seeping green goo tinged with blood. When her fingers clenched, sharp, fierce pain stabbed all through her, making her feel like she was going to fall down.

The dog had bit her. She’d reached for something in its bowl, and it had snapped, snarling. Growling. Mari had won the battle for the hunk of chicken on the bone Gran had put in there, always the dogs had food though many times Mari was forgotten. The dogs fought among themselves. Mari fought the dogs when she had to.

“Be quiet,” Gran had said. “Hide.”

Them had come, pounding feet on the floor. Loud voices. Gran fought Them the way Mari and the dogs fight. Gran won’t leave this house. Gran won’t take Their medicine, though she’ll eat the food They leave her. Gran won’t let Them help her change her clothes, goddammit, this is her place, They should get out.

Get out!

Get out!

Mari hid, and later when Them had gone, there was another voice. Another person. Nice hands, washing her face and cleaning her hands, the sore spots. Wrapping them in bandages. Giving her water, cold water. Mariposa is so hot she is going to fly away.

“Stay with me, little butterfly,” the voice says. It is soft, gentle, the voice of her protector.

Her forest prince comes to her from the woods. When Mari opens her eyes, he is there. Making everything better.

THIRTY-FIVE

“SURE, IT COULDA
been a fox.” Rosie looked over the dirt in the yard.

The chickens had scuffed it up, covering the blood, but Kendra couldn’t forget that it was there. Ethan had snagged the single raggedy feather from the peacock’s tail, but Daddy had told him not to take it in the house. He said it was bad luck.

“What?” Rosie laughed at this when Kendra told her. “Bad luck? Is that what he thinks causes it?”

Kendra shrugged and kicked at the dirt with the toe of her Chucks. “Dunno. He just told him not to take it in the house.”

Ethan had hung it up in the barn, instead. Now he walked slowly behind one of the fluffy chickens and waited until it squatted before he picked it up. He held it in one arm while he petted its head. The chicken clucked, and the monkeybrat laughed. Rosie laughed, too, as she scattered some feed for them. Kendra felt for the comforting weight of her phone in her pocket before remembering she’d lost it.

“If it wasn’t a fox, what do you think it was?” Kendra asked.

Rosie turned to look at her. “I didn’t say it wasn’t. Foxes kill chickens. Your dog might kill ’em, too, you’re not careful.”

“Chompsky won’t,” Ethan said.

Hearing his name, the dog let out a single, sharp bark. His tail swept the dirt back and forth. Kendra bent to scratch his head. “Chompsky doesn’t even chase chickens.”

Rosie snorted. “Dogs’ll do what they do. Just like men.”

Ethan had already put down the chicken he’d been holding and was now after another one. He hadn’t heard what Rosie said, or if he had, didn’t care. Kendra did, though.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” It wasn’t as if she hadn’t ever heard women diss on dudes before. Sammy did it all the time. But Kendra was kind of partial to guys even if they could be jerks and not reply to text messages.

“Oh, you could ask your mama that question. She’d know better than me, I guess.” Rosie chuckled.

“Don’t
you
have a husband?”

Rosie shot Kendra a sideways look. “He died. Cancer.”

“I’m sorry.” She really didn’t care, but it seemed like the polite thing to say.

“I ain’t,” Rosie said. She straightened as the chickens pecked around her feet. She kicked out, just a little, to shoo them away. She put her hands on the hips of her overalls. She clucked, imitating the chickens.

“Kendra! Ethan!”

Kendra turned to see her mom on the front porch. She waved, catching her mother’s eye. Mom shaded her eyes, then came across the driveway and around the side of the barn.

“Hi, Rosie. Kiki, where’s Ethan? I told him to clean up his room.”

“He’s chasing chickens.” Kendra had cleaned her room before coming out, not because she was into cleaning but because she hardly had anything here that needed putting away. And without her phone, hardly anything to do.

Her mom sighed. “Hi, Rosie. We’re going to be grilling burgers for dinner. Would you like to stay?”

Rosie looked surprised. “For dinner?”

Her mom’s smile always made Kendra feel like everything was okay, no matter what else was going on. Rosie seemed more taken aback than warmed. The old lady shrugged.

Mom gestured. “I made potato salad. Corn on the cob, too. And biscuits. There’ll be plenty of food.”

“You’ll have enough to feed an army.”

“You’re welcome to join us,” Mom said. “Kiki, go tell Ethan he’d better get his butt inside and clean up his room, or I’m going to have to get angry.”

“Children need discipline,” Rosie said.

Mom looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Of course they do.”

Rosie snorted. Kendra didn’t need to stick around for more of that conversation—in fact, as much as she might’ve been interested in hearing the monkeybrat get in trouble any other time, she didn’t really want him to get yelled at in front of Rosie. She found him in the barn, looking at the feather he’d hung on the wall.

“Mom said you’d better clean your room, or you’re gonna get in trouble.”

“I’m sad about the peacock, Kiki. I don’t think a fox killed it.”

“What else would? Besides, what difference does it make if it was a fox or a raccoon or a coyote? It’s dead,” Kendra said flatly.

“Maybe that thing in the forest. The one that lives in that little house.”

“That’s not a thing,” Kendra said, feeling proud of herself for believing it. “It’s some hillbilly dude. C’mon. You need to clean your room so Mom doesn’t get mad.”

Ethan sighed and scowled, then stomped off away from her without saying anything else. Outside, around the back of the house, Rosie sat at the splintery picnic table where Mom had already put out paper plates, napkins and cups. Also the bowl of potato salad and a pitcher of lemonade.

“Where’s my mom?” Kendra asked.

“Getting the meat, I guess.” Rosie pointed toward the house.

“I guess I should help her.” But the back door was locked, and when she knocked, her dad took forever to open it.

When he did, he didn’t look happy. “Kendra. What?”

She made to push past him. “I have to help mom with the burgers.”

“Go around.”

She stopped, incredulous. “Huh?”

“This is my office, Kendra, not a highway. Go around. I’m working.”

Her mom appeared around the side of the house with a platter of meat patties. “Ryan, relax. Kiki, come help me. Ryan, can you please get the grill started?”

She took the platter from her mom while her dad closed the door without a word. Kendra gave her mom a scowl.

“So we still have to walk all the way around, even though the kitchen is literally right through there?”

Mom sighed. “He’s busy, Kiki.”

The next minute the door opened again. Her dad came out and shut the door heavily behind him. He did a double take at the sight of Rosie, then gave Mom a squeeze.

“Let’s get this started.” Her dad rubbed his hands together and bent to look at the tank of gas under the grill. He twisted the knob. He lifted the grill lid and pushed a button.

Nothing happened.

He pushed the button again, then again, muttering curses. Kendra put the platter on the table with a heavy sigh. Rosie snorted softly.

Mom looked over at them both with a small smile. “Honey, maybe you need to use a lighter or something.”

“No, no, I’ll get it.”

This was going to take forever. Kendra scooped some potato salad onto her plate and grabbed a plastic fork. She could starve before her dad got the grill going.

Rosie frowned. “You don’t pray before you eat?”

Kendra paused, fork halfway to her mouth. She glanced at her parents, both of them working on the grill. “Huh?”

“No,” Rosie said. “I guess you wouldn’t.”

By the grill, her dad muttered a curse, but Mom burst into laughter. Kendra took a bite of potato salad, her teeth scraping on the plastic fork. Rosie took a biscuit.

Mom turned toward the table, shaking her head. “Well...I guess I could always just make them on the stove. It’ll only take a few minutes. C’mon, Ryan. Don’t fuss with that anymore.”

Her dad kept muttering but followed her mom, along with the platter of meat, into the house. This left Kendra sitting alone across the picnic table from Rosie. The old woman stared at her.

“Your daddy sure does love your mama, ain’t?”

“I guess so.” She didn’t like to think much about her parents’ relationship beyond the fact that it worked better than, say, Sammy’s parents’ did.

“Are you a good child?”

The question surprised her. “Um...”

“Are you a good daughter?” Rosie asked. “You and your brother. You good kids? I already know your brother don’t listen good.”

Kendra frowned. “He’s okay. He’s not that bad.”

“Children should obey their parents, that’s all.” Rosie took another biscuit and bit into it, crumbs gathering at the corners of her mouth. “Children who don’t obey their parents deserve to be punished.”

“I... We obey our parents.”

“How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child,” Rosie muttered. “Jesus said that.”

Kendra was 100 percent positive that Shakespeare had said it, but she didn’t argue. “I’m not thankless.”

“Huh.” Rosie snorted and looked around the backyard, then gave Kendra a sly sort of grin. “Most people don’t stay here long, you know? Rent the place for a week or so, get their hiking and hunting in, then leave. Oh, once we had a family that tried it out, but they didn’t last long.”

“Did someone throw rocks at them, too?” Kendra asked sourly.

Rosie scowled. “If you were my daughter, I’d wash your mouth with soap for that sass.”

Kendra didn’t offer an apology, though Rosie was clearly waiting for one.

“I guess your people don’t scare easy,” Rosie said finally. “But you’ll be heading back to the city soon enough.”

“I don’t think we are leaving,” Kendra said, just to be a jerk. “My dad’s working on a book, and he’s not even close to finishing. And besides, my mom likes it here. A lot. This was her house, you know.”

“She picked it?”

“No,” Kendra said. “This was her house. I mean her actual house, where she grew up.”

Rosie’s hand jerked, knocking against the bowl of potato salad. Kendra was quick enough to keep it from spilling off the table, but Rosie looked as shaken as if she’d dumped it all over herself. She got to her feet, one hand on the table to keep herself steady.

“You shut your lying mouth.”

Kendra settled the bowl carefully and fixed Rosie with a long stare. “I’m not lying.”

“Your mama grew up in this house?”

“That’s what I said.” Kendra wished she hadn’t said anything. Based on the look on Rosie’s face, the old lady was going to have a heart attack, and there was no way Kendra was going to do CPR.

Rosie began to laugh. Spit flew from her mouth as she bent at the waist, guffawing. She pointed at Kendra, but couldn’t manage to speak for a minute or so.

“Oh, wait until he hears this,” Rosie crowed at last. “Won’t he feel stupid, though?”

“Who?” Kendra asked.

But Rosie only shook her head and backed away, face going sober. She slurped at her teeth. “Tell your mama I’m sorry, I can’t stay for dinner.”

“But—” Kendra called after her, but Rosie only gave a backward wave as she left.