The Secret Sense of Wildflower (22 page)

“Wait a minute. I want to go, too,” I say. They turn to look at me and I pull myself up to my full height. “If anyone is going to hunt down Johnny Monroe, it’s me.”

“No you aren’t,” Mama says.

“I don’t see any harm--” I begin.

The look on Mama’s face is designed to shut me down.

“I’m not a little girl anymore, Mama,” I say. “It’s important that I do this. In fact, it may very well be the most important thing I ever do.”

My words make me feel strong again, like I may be Wildflower McAllister after all.

“Daddy would understand this,” I continue. “You see, Mama, I can’t let Johnny Monroe win. If I do, I will forever be looking over my shoulder for him to come back and finish what he started.”

“But you’re still on the mend,” Mama says.

“I feel fine,” I say. “Nothing hurts anymore.”

Daniel and Nathan stay quiet, as if they know better than to get between Mama and an argument. Mama looks at me for a long time, like she’s seeing the ghost of Daddy again and is just now realizing how much she misses him. To my surprise, she nods her okay. Before she has time to change her mind, I give her a quick hug and grab one of her biscuits and wrap it up in a rag.

Within seconds, Nathan leads the way up the hill. It’s steep and I’m grateful my soreness is gone. Daniel and Nathan stop to look at something on a cropping of rocks. Daniel motions for me to come look. A blotch of red blood is splattered on the gray stone.

“He’s been hit, all right,” Daniel says.

“Where do you think he’s going?” I ask.

“Probably back to where he’s been staying,” Daniel says.

For the rest of the morning we wander the mountainside like Indian trackers, searching for which way Johnny might have gone. At the top of the ridge we come to a waterfall that I’ve only been to once before. Daddy brought me up here a few years ago to show me one of his favorite places. I was still small enough to ride on his shoulders.

The water plunges dramatically over the mountain and down the gorge. The spray from the waterfall chills my face. In the middle of winter icicles edge the rocks. Rosettes are frozen into the mud, paw prints of a big cat, either a wildcat or maybe a cougar. We study them for awhile before continuing on.

Nathan knows this part of woods better than Daniel and I do. He motions for us to follow him as he seeks out the best place to cross. The closer we come to the waterfall the louder it roars. Mist, churned up from the pounding of water, covers our faces. My teeth chatter from the cold and I pull my wool jacket closer. When I reach to button the top button, it isn’t there.

The Farmer’s Almanac predicts this winter will be worse than normal. On a normal year we average a foot of snow in December, January, and February. But Thanksgiving is still two weeks away.

We cross several large boulders and come to a place where the water calms. I recognize the place. It is near where Daddy and I found the red fox in the trap.

Nathan points to where we will cross. The sight of the ravine makes my heart pound like the day Johnny chased me.

“Don’t worry,” Daniel says, putting his arm on my shoulder, his habit with me. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“I hope not,” I say. We have to speak loudly to be heard over the waterfall. A thick pine tree leans into the waterfall several feet downstream offering a limb to grab if I need it. The footbridge I cross to get to the graveyard is nothing compared to this.

“Hold onto me,” Nathan calls. He hoists up his pants one last time, and I grab his belt. He leads the way with Daniel following me. They put their two shotguns on either side of me like handrails that I can hold onto while we cross. The metal of the guns is ice cold, even through my gloves.

Nathan tests out each step before committing to it and makes his way slowly across the slippery rocks. As soon as his foot leaves a spot I put mine in the same place. The roaring of the waterfall pushes us forward.

I slip and bite my lip and taste my own blood. My vision whirls as the taste of blood brings back the memory of Johnny hitting me in the face. I start to fall and Daniel grabs me from behind.

“Careful there!” he says. He pulls me up by the seat of my pants and places me back on the rock like I weigh no more than a sack of potatoes. My heartbeat echoes in my ears and drowns out the sound of the waterfall. We make our way across boulders as big as a house to get to the other side.

“How are we doing back there?” Nathan asks, not turning around. We are halfway across.

“I’m doing fine,” I call over the roar of the water, wondering how I’ve become such a good liar.

“We’re almost there,” Daniel says. “We’ve already done the hardest part.”

I remember my words to Mama earlier and wonder where that strong girl went who had the gumption to convince her I could do this. If I had the sense to stay home, I could be sitting in front of the stove having one of Mama’s biscuits right now.

When we step on solid ground instead of boulders, I am not the only one relieved. We sit on a dry boulder and Nathan wipes the mist from his forehead. Daniel pats him on the back like he did a good job in leading us. Nathan, always hungry, pulls shelled walnuts out of a pouch for us to eat. They taste good but smell musty, like they have been in that pouch a long time.

“Everything’s downhill from here,” Daniel says to me.

“Do you really think Johnny came this way?” I ask.

“He might know a better way across,” Nathan says. “His daddy had him up here hunting as soon as he could carry a shotgun.”

I can’t imagine Johnny ever being a little boy. The thought of him rushing to keep up with his father makes him seem too human. I know him as almost a man, and mean.

After we rest we make our way down the other side of the mountain. We don’t find much of anything in the way of clues. Squirrels dash to unbury nuts they’ve stored for winter, making enough noise for us to look to see if it is Johnny.

Our footsteps are loud in the brittle leaves. If Johnny were anywhere around he’d be able to hear us coming, and it makes sense that we could hear him, too. Anytime we stop the forest hushes. Below us, in the distance, is the old footbridge. It looks tiny from this position, a splinter of toothpick, barely in view even with the leaves off the trees.

We descend the mountain and reach the path and the clearing where Johnny caught me. Goose flesh crawls up my arms and I shiver with the feeling that I’ve just walked over the very spot where I could have died. In my memory the area had grown larger than what I find before me, which is little more than the size of the pitchers mound at school. A fresh blanket of autumn leaves covers the ground. The browns and golds mingle with the forest undergrowth. Dying fern fronds wave at us in the wind. A piece of my dress from that day is hanging from a pale spire of a broken flower. I retrieve the piece of red fabric and put it in my pocket.

“I was hoping we’d catch up with him by now,” Nathan says.

“Did you think he doubled back?” Daniel asks, as he leans on the barrel of his shotgun.

“I doubt it,” Nathan says.

I leave them talking and sweep the leaves away with my boot looking for my medallion. I’ve been afraid to see this place again; afraid the memories would chase me back home. But being here, I realize that it is just a place in the woods. It is not the forest that is dangerous. It’s Johnny.

In order to stay there longer, I remind myself that I didn’t die. Johnny didn’t kill me. He wanted to. He meant to. But he didn’t. If God and I were still on speaking terms, I’d ask him if he has some special plan for me, like Preacher said about Little Wiley Johnson, who swallowed half the lake, spit it back out and lived.

While Daniel and Nathan stand near the old bridge in a patch of sunlight, I push more leaves aside with my boot and see something white peeking from underneath. It is my rabbit’s foot key chain. I hope this means my luck has changed. I pocket the rabbit’s foot, wanting to find my medallion, too. I’d worn that medallion around my neck for an entire year. To have Johnny take it added insult to my injury. Especially after I had that vision of the gold Mary walking toward me in the forest.

Before I give up and walk over to Daniel and Nathan, I spend several minutes looking around, turning leaves over with my foot.

“I didn’t know this path was here until the other day,” Daniel says to Nathan.

“I think it used to be part of an old Indian trail leading to the river,” Nathan says. “This old bridge is useless now, though.”

I don’t mention how many times I’ve managed to cross that useless bridge to get to the graveyard. I reach into my pocket and squeeze my rabbit’s foot thanking it for the good luck it has sent me in the past.

“We should head back,” Daniel says. “I’m meeting the sheriff later.”

Nathan hitches up his pants. “He needs to get some hounds up here. That’s the only way we’ll find him.”

While I wait, they discuss what to tell the sheriff and I realize how tired and cold I am. Being back at the scene of Johnny’s crime reminds me too much of what happened. My determination, so bright before, turns into dull exhaustion. I sit on one of the wooden steps to the bridge and gaze at the distant stream, making its way down the mountain toward the sea.

All of a sudden, something shiny winks at me from the bottom of the ravine. It is a tiny glimmer of light, like the sun reflecting off the silver of Daddy’s banjo in the living room. The wind blows and the sunlight makes its way through the trees from directly overhead. I lose sight of the flicker for a moment, but then see it again. Raccoons steal shiny things, but it doesn’t look like an area where raccoons would nest. I stand to get a better view and step closer to the edge. I train my eyes to make out familiar shapes. Amid scattered sunlight and shadows, the glimmer of light continues.

“What is it?” Daniel asks.

“There’s something down there,” I say. “But I can’t make it out.”

Daniel stares where I point. Then Nathan comes over and does the same. The light flickers again and they both see it this time.

“Let’s go down there,” Nathan says.

“You think that old bridge can hold us?” Daniel asks. He doesn’t look like he’s so sure.

Nathan studies it for a while. “If we do it right,” he says.

One by one we cross the rickety wooden bridge. I go first and squeeze my rabbit’s foot and long for my medallion. Because I still hold a grudge, I don’t pray to God and his angels like I would have done before. But I thank the bridge for holding us up and keeping us safe. Halfway across I notice a section of the bridge is missing. I take short, careful steps around the missing section. If there is a baby inside me, I want to keep it safe, even though a part of me hates it for even existing.

Daniel and Nathan follow. They cross, stepping lightly and fast like they are dancing over a hot fire. If they are scared they don’t show it. And it is the one time Nathan doesn’t stop to hitch up his pants.

Once we are on the other side Daniel leads the way. We leave the path and go down the hillside toward the ravine. The steepness of the rocks makes it slow going. My legs ache from all the walking and climbing we’ve been doing and I’m still tired and cold. After about 100 yards, Daniel stops and looks over at Nathan. Then he points to something up ahead that I can’t see.

“Is that a deer carcass?” Nathan asks Daniel.

“I don’t think so,” Daniel says. They exchange another look.

“Maybe you should go back and wait for us at home,” Daniel says to me.

“I don’t want to,” I say bluntly. I am tired of being treated like a child.

“I don’t want your mama mad at me,” Daniel says.

“Not a chance,” I say. “She thinks you’re the best thing since electricity.”

Nathan chuckles.

“Come on, then,” Daniel says to me.

I smile, having won a small victory for my independence and follow them into the gully of the ravine. As we walk, I catch glimpses of what is ahead, but I can’t clearly see until we stop at the edge of the stream. What Nathan thought was a deer, is a crumpled body in a brown coat. A pool of dark red blood covers the rocks around the body.

Nathan makes his way across several boulders to get a better look. “It’s Johnny!” he calls.

I gasp.

“Wait here,” Daniel says to me.

I start to follow anyway but he holds out a stiff arm to stop me. His look convinces me I should stay.

Daniel and Nathan turn Johnny over.

Johnny is dead. His skull is cracked open and there is a ragged wound in his thigh from where Amy shot him.

“He probably tried to cross that bridge with the frost still on it,” Daniel says.

As if wanting to protect me from the sight, Daniel takes off one of his flannel shirts to put over Johnny’s head. Before he covers Johnny’s face he leans down and takes something from around Johnny’s neck. Then he walks over to me.

“This must have been what you saw from up there,” he says.

Daniel hands me my medallion of Mary with Johnny’s blood crusted over the baby Jesus. I wash it off in the ice cold water of the stream. The fear and anger I’ve felt since Johnny attacked me, washes away with the blood. I take a deep breath. For the first time in weeks I feel safe.

I don’t know where Johnny will end up for eternity. But in a twinge of mercy, that surprises me, I hope he finally gets to see his mother again and his sister Ruby. I hate Johnny for what he did to me. Like Ruby, it seems he’s already lived a life close to what I imagine hell to be. Maybe God will take that into account. If God exists after all.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN