Mayday (17 page)

“We're heading over to the water park. Why don't you come?”

Adele had been to the water park. The hound could see that, no doubt enjoying the sight of her wet. And this is where I wished Addy'd spent a little more time with Nietzsche, for how true it is that “the man of knowledge must be able not only to love his enemies but also to hate his friends.”

“Come on, Adele.” Jacque whined like a child. As if she believed, even for a second, that this invitation had anything to do with her. I saw Adele wavering. Time to spring.

“Hey, Adele!” I quickly approached.

She turned and gave me a big hug. “Hey, Crow. Are you alone? Because we were thinking of heading to the water park. Want to come?”

I don't know who looked more disappointed, Shirtless or Addy's friends. I looked down at my black on black outfit. “I didn't dress for it, but yeah, it's nice of you to invite me.”

“Like you ever dress for it!” Adele smiled. “Guys, this is my sister, Crow. Crow, I forgot their names.”

I stepped toward them and whispered, “Shirtless dog.” I backhanded the leader's chest. “And these are your two puppies. Cute little family you have here.”

“You freak.” Shirtless frowned and backhanded the shocked dog standing beside him. “Let's go.”

“Freak? You're calling my sister a freak? Yeah, just keep on walking. I'm sorry, Crow, you don't deserve that. Hang with us the rest of today.” She hugged my arm.

• • •

I thought of Shirtless as I marched, lost and alone, a solitary figure surrounded by pine trees green and white. I should have let Addy go to the water park. The hound might have been a pretty decent guy.

THE THOUGHTS OF C. RAINE

Every mile is two in winter.

George Herbert

THE WIND PICKED UP.
All warmth from my boxcar dream had faded, and my tennis shoes provided precious little by way of frost protection. I'd gone on long winter walks before, mainly two-hour hikes between the Shack and Mom's house, and mainly with Basil. But that route had rest stops along the way, namely Perkins and Duke's All-Night Coffee.

There was no Perkins on this road.

Just miles of farmland, stretching out as far as I could see. Spaces widened the farther I wandered from Morneau, and fewer trees lined the road, unfortunate as the occasional shelterbelt provided a brief break from the wind. I tugged the flannel around me, peeked at the sky, and stopped.

Never one to pay too much attention to the weather, I, when Crow, always stared down as I loped. It was easier to keep track of my steps. This was not so with Shane, which is why I actually saw it happen; I witnessed a clear blue sky turn cloudy.

Not a big deal, you might think. You've seen clouds roll in, too, but I wager you haven't seen a line of thick gray rise on the horizon and advance toward you—with speed. A perfect line, like a gray sheet pulled over a bed of blue. The front seam of that sheet reached a point directly overhead, and I stared up at a sky
exactly
one half blue and one half gray. Have you ever seen that?

Didn't think so.

Neither Will nor Adele showed any concern, at least from the rear and from a distance. No staring, no finger-pointing, no screams, “It's the end of the world!”

“Where you going, Shane?”

I slowly lowered my gaze and turned. “Hi, Sadie.”

My syrupy visitor walked on by, knitting the whole way, something akin to driving and texting, albeit on a smaller scale. “Oh, honey. You're at it again. I warned you about shaping others' futures. The first time around, Will and Addy didn't come out here until just before Mayday, and here we are at Christmas.”

“Wait!” I jogged up to her. “I've really cut down. I've held my tongue. There's so much more I could have said.”

“I know, child. That's not why I'm here.” She handed me a sweater. “Try this. Should just about fit.” I whipped off my flannel and squeezed into the warmest sweater I'd felt. I wriggled back into my coat.

“Thank you. I was dying out here.”

“An interesting turn of phrase coming from you, but point taken.” She grinned quickly, her face returning to solemn. “You ain't had much time to look at that locket.”

“Was I supposed to?” I dug in my jeans. Again, the locket felt heavy in my hand and I flipped it open.

Dark red. Drippy red.

My heartbeat quickened. “What's happening?”

“Coraline, I mean Lifeless, is fixing to wake. I don't know the moments you have left here, but it's about to fade to black. She's clinging precarious to shallow sleep.”

I knew all about shallow sleep, and my shoulders weakened. “My time's going to run out before Mayday, isn't it?”

Sadie paused in her knitting.

We wandered in silence. I do not remember how long.

“I failed again,” I whispered. “Two chances and every advantage, and I failed again.” I gritted my teeth and stopped, stared up at the two-tone sky. “You may as well take me now.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Sadie reach out her hand. I closed my eyes and stretched trembling fingers out toward her.

Sadie slapped a pair of wool socks into my palm. “So impulsive.”

I frowned, balanced against a fence post, and slipped off frozen shoes.

“Be careful now, that be electric fencing. Shane's tough, but that'd push it.”

I straightened and finished the job. “I won't be around to help Addy. What's left for me here?”

“Your first good question.” Sadie drew a deep breath. “I think even you'd admit you done a fair piece of work. You aren't the same you I spoke to at the beginning of your walkabout. You're gentler.”

“Being a wuss does little good.”

“And you believe some different things about people. About Thomas and Will and Basil. You see things clearer.”

“But if I can't make Crow see it—”

“And maybe most of all there's an itching inside, something that, if I were to leave you here until Lifeless wakes, you might be able to attend to. If you get a move on.”

“An itching? I do think about Crow a lot, well, Crow and . . .”

Dad.

“Your father, Coraline. Your father be alive. He's not far.” She pointed to my pocket. “There's a reason I gave you the locket. The one from him. I told you not to worry about Adele. I told you not to spend this time trying to cheat death. This time was always for you, you and your dad. Haven't you felt it, Coraline? Bits and pieces of what was, what could have been, what should have been between the two of you? And here you done gobbled up sacred time trying to save someone who needs no saving.”

I feel it.

“I tell you this now because I could not before. We supposed to leave you to your own discoveries, your own conclusions during your walkabout, but time is short. Hear this: Your father didn't do right by you. He didn't stay for you, fight for you. He lay on your shoulders more than they was meant to bear.” She peeked up, and lowered her voice. “But imperfect as the man is, he never stopped loving you.”

Sadie was gone. Where she stood lay another pair of mittens. “Thanks, Sadie.”

I picked them up, stuffed in my hands, and felt a crinkle. I pulled out a piece of paper and read the address.

“No way.”

I slipped the scrap into my back pocket and retrieved Dad's locket once more. The red blazed under the brilliant sun. All its former colors—green, yellow, and red—I knew from Lifeless's dream. I knew what they meant. Green was life; the family was happy, Dad was there. Yellow was a warning of Jude the Destroyer. Red was pain and the end of all things.

But that's where the dream colors stopped . . .and my philosophy started.

I didn't know what happened after the end.

I didn't know black, the color I wore in life, the color that followed death.

I glanced up, and the clouds were gone.

Time. I need to get back. I need to get back with Crow. She needs to know.

I looked ahead and squinted.

Will and Adele were gone, too.

THE THOUGHTS OF C. RAINE

Diogenes struck the father when the son swore.

Robert Burton, “Anatomy of Melancholy,”
Democritus to the Reader
,
1621

I'D NEVER BEEN A TRACKER.
Paw prints from tree to tree meant squirrel, but that was the extent of my ability. The hardpack left only an occasional tread imprint of Will's dress shoe when it strayed and caught fresh powder at the road's edge. But when I reached two distinct sets of tracks leading off into a field, it almost had to be them, and I set my face against the wind.

I followed them into the woods. There was only the crunch of the snow and the amplified sound of breath, and I felt small and inconsequential. But the spaces of winter left room for thoughts of Dad, and I wished I could recall taking even one walk together.

The trees thinned out, and I emerged onto a smaller road. There, the two tracks merged, and separated, one heading left and the other right.

“Great.”

I chose the smaller print and quickened my step, rounding a curve in time to see a church in the middle of nowhere, a tiny house at its side, and Adele slipping in between them.

Pulling my flannel up around my face, I jogged nearer, passed the house, and rounded the church, where I paused at the sign out front.

HILLTOP BAPTIST

PASTOR WILL KROFT SR.

ALL WELCOME!

“Huh. He did tell the truth,” I muttered. “That sneaky kid.”

I walked beyond the church's glass door, circled the entire building, and approached the entrance to the house. I breathed deep and knocked.

There was a pause, and the door flew open. Adele rushed into my arms, pushed back out, and cocked her head. Her mouth opened to speak, then slowly shut.

“Yeah, it's complicated.” I winced. “Crow's in town, too. Can I come in?”

She glanced over her shoulder and didn't answer.

She was alone.

Got it.

“It's all right,” I said. “I don't need to come in. I'll wait outside for whoever gets here next and—”

“No, it's okay,” Adele gestured me in, and I followed. She turned. “Do I get to go first?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are you and Crow following us?”

“Straight to it. Good approach.” I looked around the vacant house. “I'm going to tell you some things, and I'm hoping you don't hate me or Crow. Actually, you can hate me, just not Crow; well, feel free to hate Crow, but get over it quick, because—”

“Shane!”

“Right. Crow thought you might be in trouble out here on your own.”

“But I'm not alone. I'm with Will.”

I gazed at the floor.

“Oh, Crow.” Adele exhaled hard. “All these years and she's still protecting me. Wait, how did she know we'd come here?”

I winced and raised the notebook, handed it to her.

She leafed through it. “Now I am mad at her.”

I winced again. “I asked her to do it.”

“Now I'm mad at you.”

“You don't work with Will. You don't see the Jekyll and Hyde, how different he is when he's not around you. I guess you can take that as a compliment.” I pointed at the notebook. “The Will I work with, that Crow sees, isn't a Will you'd trust with anyone.”

Adele's eyes flared. “That's my decision to make!”

I backed toward the door. “I see that now. Addy, I'm leaving. I won't bother you anymore. I never meant to smother you. Not when we were young, not now.”

She took a step back. “You sound like Shane, but you speak like my sister. How do you know about that? Did Crow tell you?”

I gazed at Addy and sighed. Sadie was right. Addy was fine. She made it. She didn't need me to undo her life. She only needed me to let her live it. I opened the door and stepped out. “I'll leave you be.”

“If you wait . . .”

I turned and peeked at Adele. She continued, “You can apologize to Will. He ran to town to see if he could find a present for his dad, it being Christmas and all. He didn't want to go home without a present. I don't quite get it.” She gestured around the place. “He said he used to live here, that the key was beneath the rock by the church. It was, but obviously the place is deserted. I'd appreciate the company.”

“I don't.”

The voice was deep and metered, as if each word had been weighed and measured for effect. Behind me stood a distinguished version of Will. His dad, there was no doubt.

I reached out my hand. “Shane Owen. And this is Adele Raine.”

He looked at my hand but did not grasp it. “How long have you been here?”

“We just arrived.” Adele stepped forward. “I was looking for you.”

“Christmas service has ended. We hold that service next door. In the church.” He pointed over his shoulder. “Now, if you'll kindly vacate church property, it will spare us the inconvenience of a holiday call to Officer Blake.”

“We've come a long way,” I said. “All four of us, including Crow and your son.”

Shock hits men in a multitude of ways—rarely tears, I think, but that is exactly what happened this time. The man standing in front of us burst into tears, rocked a bit so that I grabbed his arm to steady him. He did not resist.

“Will's come home? How does he look?”

Adele smiled, “Really good. We're waiting for him now.”

“Tell me where he is.” The reverend grabbed my arm. “I've waited for this day long enough.” He sniffed and took off his coat, then put it back on. “I will not wait another minute. Where is he?”

“I'm not exactly sure. Somewhere in town,” Adele said, “He felt he needed a gift before he could come home.”

This pulled another sob from the pastor.

I stared into the eyes of a father in love, a man so desperate for his son he could not think straight. Standing there fixed my own purpose. With the last whispers of my walkabout, I knew what I needed to do.

I toyed with the locket.

Please, God, just a little more time.

“Come with me.” Reverend Kroft ran out the door and toward the church parking lot—I believe we left the house door wide open—and soon we were speeding, yes, speeding, toward Morneau. Ten minutes later, we arrived, and the next set of events will stay with me forever.

• • •

Picture in your mind an empty town, maybe a scene from a Western just before the outlaw gang rides in. Remove the dust and the saloon and the little kid hiding under the stagecoach and cover everything with snow and light. Morneau, decked out for Christmas. Angels blowing bugles and evergreen wreaths hung from each streetlight along the town's main street.

The road was silent. Not horror movie silent, holiday silent. There's a difference. One says, ‘Something is coming,' the other, ‘Something has come.' The street was still and quiet.

In the middle of the road on the town's south side sat a young man. His back was to Morneau, and he faced out toward the miles of nothingness stretched out before him. His borrowed suit hung crumpled on his frame, and his head drooped buried in his hands. In front of him, toppled in the street, rested two jugs of orange Gatorade, green ribbons around each one.

Like a mannequin, he did not shift or flinch at the sound of our car engine; he was not in this world. He sat waiting, I think, for an imaginary bus to arrive at an imaginary bus stop and ship him south to the Twin Cities. But I wager that no such vehicle ever passed through Morneau, and certainly not on Christmas.

Leave him, if you will, and pan north on Main, past Casey's Pizza and Percy's Tire Repair. Beyond the bakery and the three-story hardware, the last business on the west side. If you stared the opposite direction down Main Street, you saw the back of a statue, a girl, carved from darkest obsidian. She, too, plunked in the middle of the road, her back to the town and to Will.

She sat cross-legged, posture erect, her backpack in front of her, waiting, I believe, to freeze, and yes, to die. Witness Crow.

The pastor slowed his car and pulled to the curb right between them.

“Who are they?” He glanced left, and then right. “Looks like they just finished a gun fight.”

“That might not be far from the truth.” I shared a wondering look with Adele. “Reverend Kroft, that young man slumped on the far side is yours.” I puffed out air and faced Crow. “This young lady is mine to deal with.”

The reverend bolted from his car and ran toward Will. Upon hearing the door slam, Will slowly rose, and I could tell he gave thought to flight. But his shoulders heaved, he reached down, and weakly lifted the Gatorades toward his approaching father, who slowed, took them, dropped them, and gave young Will a hug so real I felt its meaning from down the street. And they cried and then they laughed; then Adele joined them, and they laughed and they cried some more.

I closed my eyes at the sight of their reunion.

• • •

“What a fool you made of us.” Mom didn't turn. “How many notes are there in that recital piece? Maybe twenty? How can you forget twenty notes?”

I swallowed hard. “I'm sorry.”

“It is very easy to forget twenty notes,” Dad interrupted. “You recovered magnificently.”

“With your help.” Mom hissed. “You know how Dr. Jude feels about your constantly coming to Crow's rescue.”

“I know how Dr. Jude feels about too many things.” Dad shot Mom a glance. “But that man will never know Coraline. My daughter analyzes every word she reads, feels every note she hears, even the missed ones.”

“Save your philosophical garbage and take me home.” Mom stared out the window.

Dad turned, gazed at me, and pulled the car onto the shoulder.

“What are you doing? Flat tire?” Mom asked.

“Flattened heart.” Dad whispered. He removed a CD, my practice CD with a full orchestra playing “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” He punched it in, turned up the volume, and stepped out of the car. He opened my car door, reached for my hand, and led me safely into the grass.

“My darling Coraline. No matter what happens in the next few days, always remember that together, we play superbly. Will you dance with me?”

He rounded my tiny waist with his hand, took hold of my other hand, and for the next forever, we danced. Cars flew by, Mom's voice rose in the distance, but nothing mattered but my gentle twirl and the gleam in Daddy's eyes. And I laughed. And he cried.

Opening my eyes to look again at Will, it struck me: there is not much difference between saying good-bye and saying hello.

• • •

Crow hadn't shifted. I approached her, eased down in front, and assumed her position.

“Do not say one word.” Crow whispered. “I asked at the station. I know the letter is true. I know he is who he said he is. But none of that changes what he might do to her. I heard it. I heard it clearly.”

I nodded. “I believe you.” I reached out my hand, and she narrowed her eyes. “Yep, I'm asking you to trust me. I'm asking you to let me take you home.”

Her body shook and softened. Her shoulders drooped. “If I stay, I die. If I let her go, I die. I have nothing of my own to go home to. I'm nothing.”

I sat in silence before the truth. Her truth. My truth. She finally got it, and it hit me like a hammer. My walkabout hadn't given me a second chance to live. It gave me a first chance. And the moments were fleeting.

“I don't think trains run today,” I said, “but we need to get you home.”

Crow stared with no hardness in the eyes. They were soft and open and longing for a reason to get up off the street.

I peeked over her shoulder at the reunion still happening at the far end of town, and I glanced back at the reverend's car.

“I think I know a way back.”

She took my hands, held them up to her mouth, and blew. Warmth I didn't know I had surrounded my fingers.

“I trust you.”