It’s the middle of the night when we make it home from the hospital in Blue Lake.
Tobin and I waited a long, long time on the bench welded to the wall, until Debbie came to get us for a short visit in Scotty’s hospital room.
But not before we scrubbed all the germs from our hands with disinfectant hospital soap and crossed our hearts, promising to only stay for five minutes.
Scotty already looked better. He was all cleaned up, and someone had cut his hair and shaved off his beard to make him look more like the man in the picture next to Debbie’s bed and Tobin’s too. He had even eaten half a hospital cheeseburger and some of his fries.
I have so many questions, but figure it’s best not to ask them until he’s well again. Plus Tobin would probably just roll his eyes right out of his head by the time I was done with all my asking.
I don’t remember the ride home, because I fell asleep on the front seat of Jake. I wake up when Charlie carries me inside and sets me on top of my bed.
“Charlie,” I say, rubbing my eyes.
“It’s late, Lem.” He pulls off one of my tennis shoes and then the other one. “We can talk more in the morning.”
“Why was Tobin’s dad living in the woods out back behind Mrs. Dickerson’s garden?”
Charlie breathes out long and hard and sits down next to me on the bed.
“He has something called CSR, Lem,” he says. “Combat stress reaction. Sometimes it’s called battle fatigue or shell shock. It’s what some soldiers experience after they must see and do terrible things during a war. Right now he needs rest and he needs some time to make sense of the things he has experienced. He needs help with his memories.”
I guess even Scotty has his very own quicksand.
“But why didn’t he just go home to get all that?” I ask, thinking about the special ring on Debbie’s finger. “Debbie would have helped him. Didn’t he know that she has deep-down love for him? Debbie would have done anything he needed. I know it.”
“I’m sure you’re right about that,” Charlie says. “CSR is hard to understand because you can’t see it like you can see a broken arm or…uh—”
“Gangrene?”
“Yes.” He smiles. “Like you can see gangrene. Some people don’t even want to believe CSR is real. But it’s very real, and our men need support after all they’ve been through. All I can say is that Scotty will be okay after he gets treatment at the hospital. He might be there for a time, but the doctors know what to do to help him.”
“And he’ll be able to go back home one day to live with Tobin and Debbie?”
“Yes, Lem. They can finally be a family again.”
“That’s good, then,” I say.
“Yep.” He sighs and stands up. “It’s wonderful. Get some sleep now.”
“Charlie?”
“Lem, it’s late. Crawl in now, and we’ll talk more tomorrow,” he says, lifting the comforter up for me to burrow under.
“Just one more thing,” I tell him, pulling it over my clothes.
“What is it?”
“How did Scotty get all the way from Vietnam back to the woods in Willow Creek?”
He begins tucking the comforter tight all around me.
“Remember when I told you that Scotty had been MIA? Missing in action? And then they rescued him last year?”
“Yes,” I say. “I remember. You said he made it to the base in Oakland and then disappeared.”
“Yes, well, Scotty told us an amazing story of survival,” he tells me. “He had been on a top secret mission when he was captured. His entire squad was killed, but he survived. The army thought they had all been killed, and unfortunately, Scotty ended up spending the next three years in a prison in the jungle, where he was horribly tortured until another top secret squad finally found him and rescued him last year. That’s when they sent soldiers to the house to let Debbie know he was alive. Remember when I told you that Debbie and Tobin went to pick him up at the airport and found out he never made it on the plane?”
“Yes.”
“Something happened to him on his way to catch the flight.”
“What?” I ask.
“With combat stress reaction, sometimes a person’s memories are so strong that it makes them uncertain if a memory is something that happened in the past or if it’s happening in the present.”
“Kind of like a dream?” I ask, thinking of all the dreams I have of Mama and me at Sunshine’s on the Bay. It feels so real when it’s happening that it’s like she’s still right here with me.
“Exactly,” he says. “It was the loud noises at the airport that confused his brain. Loud noises that sounded like the explosions or gunfire he experienced in the jungle. Those noises confused him and it’s like he started to dream that he was back in the jungle again…back in danger. So he did what he learned to do to stay safe. He escaped to the cover of the woods.”
“That’s why he didn’t get on the plane? Because his memories were confused?” I ask.
“That’s right.”
“But he looked okay to me when we saw him in the hospital.”
“It’s something that comes on a bit unexpectedly. It could still happen if he experiences something that reminds him of the jungle. Does that make sense?”
“I suppose so,” I say. “But I still don’t know why he wouldn’t just let Debbie know all that. Did he forget about her deep-down love?”
“He told the doctors that once he made it back to Willow Creek on his own, he couldn’t face Debbie and Tobin. He said he tried many times to make it up those front porch steps, but he couldn’t do it. He said that he just couldn’t share with them what he had been through because it was too horrible. He wanted to protect them from all that he had seen and experienced out in the jungle so they wouldn’t have to experience it too. So…he watched over them from the woods, hoping one day he would be able to be with them again.”
I think hard about everything Charlie has told me.
“You’re right,” I tell him. “That is hard to understand.”
“Yes,” he agrees.
“When will he get to go home for good?”
“That depends on his healing.”
“I hope he’s healed up soon.”
“Me too.”
“Charlie?”
“Lem, it’s so late.”
“One more question. I really promise this time.”
“What is it?”
“Scotty didn’t say anything about seeing the Bigfoot while he was living out behind Mrs. Dickerson’s, did he?”
Charlie smiles. “Nope, he sure didn’t.”
“Hmmm,” I say.
“Good night, Lem.”
“Charlie?”
He chuckles. “I’m not going to sleep any time soon, am I?”
“Just one more thing, then I really and truly promise to go to sleep. Cross my heart this time.”
“Okay, what is it?”
“I’m happy for Tobin, and Debbie too…I am. But it also, well, it doesn’t really seem fair.”
“Fair?” he asks.
“I mean, first, when he got to even hope that his dad was coming back, I wished I could hope too. You know, that Mama would come back to us too. But now Tobin actually gets his dad back. But Mama is never coming back. I can’t even hope for it. And it’s just not fair, is all.”
Charlie sits back down on the edge of the bed and puts a warm hand on top of my knee.
“I can certainly understand why you feel that way,” he says. “And you’re right, it isn’t fair.”
“It doesn’t mean I’m bad, to feel like that?”
“No, Lem. Not at all.”
“I mean, I’m still happy for them,” I say. “I really am. But I’m also sad for me. And for you. Even for Mrs. Dickerson.”
Charlie drops his head and sighs.
“I’m happy for them and sad for us too,” he says. “I think that’s a very normal feeling to have.”
I smile at him.
“Thanks, Charlie.”
“Good night, Lem,” he says.
“Night,” I say, snuggling down under my rainbow comforter. I watch him turn off the light and walk toward the door.
“Charlie?”
“Yes, Lem?” He turns back to face me from the doorway, the light from the hall shining on him.
“You are what I’m most thankful for today.”
Charlie looks at me for a long time without saying anything, and then clears his throat a bunch of times.
“Lemonade Liberty Witt,” he finally says, “you are what I’m most thankful for every day.”
Mama and I are at the very best table at Sunshine’s on the Bay. The one next to the front window that looks out over the water. We watch all the sailboats and ships going back and forth across the bay and listen to the barking sea lions on the dock nearby.
I have my vanilla ice cream, with a mix of exactly fifty percent hot fudge and fifty percent caramel, and a big fat glob of Marshmallow Fluff, with a spattering of rainbow sprinkles on the side. Mama has her chocolate ice cream with chunks of banana, whipped cream, and a cherry on top.
“Mama,” I tell her, “I’m most thankful for having this time with you today. I wish it could be more.”
Mama smiles her biggest smile. I gaze at her, trying to memorize everything about her. Her shiny lips and her eyelashes and the dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks.
“I wish it could be more too, Lemonade. But that’s out of our control. I’m thankful I got to be your mama, even if it wasn’t for the amount of time I had hoped or planned. And now you have Charlie to take care of you. Charlie and Mrs. Dickerson and Debbie and Mr. Harold and Tobin, too.”
“And Scotty,” I tell her. “He came back, Mama. Tobin and I found him in the woods.”
She closes her eyes and nods slowly. She already knows.
“Take care of each other,” she says.
“I wish it was you who came back.”
“Me too,” she says.
“It’s not fair that Tobin gets his dad back and I don’t get you. It’s just not.”
“In life, one thing is for sure,” she says. “We don’t always get to choose.”
“You can say that again.”
She smiles.
“Remember that with every loss, something meaningful and very special can blossom…if you allow it to.”
“What good could possibly come from us not being together anymore?” I ask her.
“It doesn’t mean what we’ve lost isn’t still important.”
“But what could be good about it?” I ask again.
“I think you already know, sweet Lemonade.” She smiles.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Someone is knocking on the front window.
“Lemonade!”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Lemonade Liberty Witt!”
I turn to see Tobin standing on the sidewalk, wearing his Bigfoot safari hat strapped tight under his chin, with his Polaroid camera hanging from his neck. He’s peering at me between cupped hands through the painted letters on the window advertising the ice cream special of the month.
TIME TO SQUEEZE THE LEMONS ICE CREAM SUNDAE
“Lemonade!” he calls again. “I’ve got to talk to you!”
“Mama, please don’t leave,” I say, turning back to face her. “I want you to stay like Tobin’s dad gets to.”
“I wish I could,” she tells me, standing up. “But remember that I will always be with you…in here.” She taps my forehead gently. “And in here.” She places her palm on my heart.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Lemonade!”
My eyes peel open. I’m nose to nose with Rainbow, Mama’s worn blue bunny with the battered pink bow. And I know this sounds crazy, but I actually catch Rainbow smiling at me.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The clock next to the bed reads 6:07 a.m. I squint toward the window.
“Lemonade!” Tobin calls through the glass. “Wake up!”
I pull myself up, still in the clothes I had on last night, and push the blue curtains to one side. Tobin is standing there in his tan safari hat with the strap pulled tight under his chin.
“What is it?” I say.
He motions for me to open the window. The sun is just finding its way toward the sky, while the birds call out like an alarm clock, waking the forest grasses and leaves and trees to announce the new day.
“We’re leaving for the hospital, and we’re going to be there all day,” Tobin says. “You’re in charge of the Bigfoot Headquarters today.”
“What for?”
“What do you mean, what for?”
“I mean, I thought we solved the whole Bigfoot mystery—”
“Tobin!” Debbie calls from across the street. “We have to get going!”
“Here.” Tobin shoves a sheet of lined paper toward me.
“What is it?”
“Instructions.”
“I don’t need instructions.”
“You sure do. The last time I left you alone, you took that to mean go play Kick the Can and eat knuckle sandwiches with Mrs. Dickerson.”
“They were finger sandwiches. Finger.”
“Take it.” He shakes the page at me. “Make sure you follow every step. That means opening up at oh eight-thirty hours on the dot.”
“Fine.” I grab it.
Tobin adjusts his chin strap and turns to leave.
“Tobin,” I say.
He turns back.
“Yeah?”
“I—I wanted to tell you, um…that I’m…you know, ah, that I’m happy for you. I mean that you…that you have your dad back and everything. I’m really happy for you.”
Tobin smiles.
“Thanks,” he says. “I wish it was true for you, too.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Me too.”
He looks away from me and down at his hands.
“So don’t forget now, oh eight-thirty hours and not a second later,” he reminds me.
“I won’t forget it,” I tell him. “And you didn’t have to write it down, either.”
“Really?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“What do you want to bet you’re still going to be late?”
“Nuh-uh, I’ll be on time. I promise.”
“Uh-huh.” He grins.
I watch him walk away with his safari hat still strapped tight under his chin. He turns around one more time to wave and I wave back. And then he’s off across the street.
On his way to see his dad.
Open the Bigfoot Headquarters at 8:30 and not a minute later.
Check all messages.
Write all messages on pad marked messages.
Call back any messages.
Don’t touch the yellow legal pad! You are not authorized at that level of security clearance.
One hot garage plus zero messages and a Bigfoot mystery that’s already been solved with a regular man equals the most perfectly boring day in cryptozoological history. Lucky for me, Charlie brought home another new book for me to read, Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great.
The green phone rings and I grab the index card next to the message pad, just in case it’s Tobin calling to test me.
“Good morning…,” I read. “And thank you for calling Bigfoot Detectives Inc., serving Willow Creek since 1974. This is Lemonade Liberty Witt, Assistant Bigfoot Detective. How may we help you with your Bigfoot needs today?”
“Lem, it’s Charlie.”
“Hi, Charlie.” I toss the card to the side.
“Just checking up on you. How’s business?”
“Boring. But I’m on chapter eight already of my new book.”
“Ah,” he says. “How is it?”
“It’s a real good one.”
“Glad you like it. Say, I’m wondering if you want to come up to the store for lunch. I can call Diesel’s for some sandwiches.”
My stomach moans just hearing about an egg sa
lad on sourdough.
“Sure.”
“Egg salad on sourdough, hold the tomatoes?”
I smile into the receiver.
“Thanks, Charlie.”
“See you in a few minutes,” he says, and hangs up.
I push the folding chair back from the desk and notice that the top left drawer is open a crack. I grab the handle and pull it all the way open. Inside is the yellow legal pad.
And on the very first page it says,
PRIVATE—KEEP OUT!!
This means you, Lemonade Liberty Witt!!
I ignore the warning and reach down and peel back the page. On the next sheet is a scribble of a smiling Bigfoot and the corporate logo. I skip to a section in the middle of the pad.
June 2, 1975
Dear Dad,
I got my first employee today. Her name is Lemonade Liberty Witt. She’s from the city and kind of weird but I made her my assistant anyway. I think maybe we might even get to be friends. I wish you were here, Dad. It’s hard to be here without you.
Forever Your Son,
Tobin Sky
I turn another page to the next entry, on June 3, 1975.
Dear Dad,
Where are you? There are so many things I have to tell you. There are so many things I have to ask you. When are you coming back home? I—
The green phone jingles.
I jump out of my skin and throw the pad inside the drawer, slamming it closed. I know this time for sure it’s Tobin checking up on me.
“I didn’t see anything!” I ramble into the receiver.
“Uh, hello?” says a man’s voice.
“Oh—ah.” I fumble to grab the note card. “Um, hello…ah, Good morning…,” I read. “And thank you for calling Bigfoot Detectives Inc., serving Willow Creek since 1974. This is Lemonade Liberty Witt, Assistant Bigfoot Detective. How may we help you with your Bigfoot needs today?”
“Hello, Lemonade. It’s Mr. Harold.”
“Hi, Mr. Harold.” I sit back down at the desk. “Did you hear about Tobin’s dad?”
“I sure did hear it,” he says. “It’s all anyone could talk about this morning at the doughnut shop. Nothing short of a miracle.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I hope he gets well soon. Charlie says he has PMS.”
“Ah—” He chuckles. “I think maybe he said CSR.”
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