“Of course, there’s been lots of new construction downtown, and all around the lake. That amusement park, couple new hotels.”
“My mom works at the Duck On Inn.” The older girl frowned as she industriously worked her crayon across the page. “She says the tourists are going to kill her.”
The younger girl looked up. “Our mom’s in there. She has to get her blood cleaned.”
“That’s right,” Martin told them. “You’re both very good little girls to wait for her so patiently.”
A serious nod. “We’re going to get DQ .”
“That sounds nice,” I said. The girl regarded me with round dark eyes, then returned to her coloring.
“Duck On Inn’s a popular place,” Martin said. “They got a real good fish fry on Fridays.”
“Local fish?”
“Oh, sure.”
So wait. Maybe we were onto something. “Are there any manufacturing plants that drain into the lake?”
“Well, sure. There’s Gerkey’s.”
“Can’t be that,” I said. “Gerkey’s has been around forever. We need to focus on what’s new, what’s changed recently.”
He nodded, looked down, and plucked at the blanket across his lap. “You know, Dana, you’ve been gone a long time.” His voice was gentle. He looked up with kind eyes. “Do you really care about what’s going on here?”
“Of course I do,” I said, stung. “This is my hometown. I grew up here.”
His expression told me he didn’t believe me.
“Well, hey.” Sheri was there, smiling down at me, her hand on the back of Martin’s chair. “Didn’t think I’d see you two here.” She looked from me to Martin, to me again. “Am I interrupting anything?”
“Look, Miss Sheri.” The older girl clambered to her feet. “I drew you a picture.”
“You did? Let me see.” Sheri examined the piece of paper. “Gorgeous.”
“I drew one, too,” her sister said.
“Hers isn’t very good,” the older one said apologetically. The younger one elbowed her.
“Ow!”
“Wow, look at these.” Sheri took the proffered sheet. “These are just beautiful. I’m going to hang them on my bulletin board when I get to work tomorrow.”
“For real?”
“You bet.” Sheri sat beside me on the couch. “How you doing, Martin?”
“Not one of my better days.”
She nodded with a deeper understanding than I could ever have, and I realized how this disease had united them, broken down barriers and allowed them to speak in shorthand. “I decided to take Julie’s advice,” she said. “I’m going to learn to do home dialysis.”
“Good for you,” Martin said. “You can do it.”
“I hope you’re right.” She gave us both a wan smile. “Hey, listen. Why don’t you come by for supper tonight?”
“That’s all right,” Martin said. “You kids go on without me. Wheel of Fortune’s on and I don’t want to miss it.”
“Dana?”
I suddenly very much wanted to have dinner with Sheri and Mike, see their home and their two little boys. “I’d love to. What time?”
“How about seven o’clock? We’ll feed the boys earlier, and tuck them in. We’ll have a real grown-ups’ night out.” She stood and looked down at the girls. “You two want to come in with me and check on your mom?”
The little girls skipped alongside Sheri, the younger one reaching up for her hand as the doors opened to let them into the dialysis room.
We watched them go. The waiting room felt barren, an empty silence stretching from wall to wall. At last, Martin sighed. “You know you can’t bring Julie back.”
“I know that,” I snapped. “She called me. Out of the blue a few weeks ago. I didn’t even give her a chance to talk. But she should have told me she was sick. I could have saved her.” Instead, she’d very decisively crossed out my name in the margin of her notebook.
He reached over and took my hand in his warm, callused hands. “Maybe she didn’t think she was the one needed saving.”
TWENTY-TWO
[PEYTON]
STARFISH WILL EAT ANYTHING: CORALS, SPONGES worms, crabs, mussels, oysters, clams, rotting fish, sea cucumbers, sea urchins, mud, and sometimes even one another. They’re focused and determined, working for days to pry open a clam, willingly fracturing their bodies in the process. They march through coral reefs, sucking out the polyps helplessly trapped in their tiny shells; they slurp down sea anemones and jellies, despite how bitter their poisons must taste.
Other animals, seeing them approach, run for cover—at least the ones that can. The other ones burrow and hold themselves very, very still.
People, on the other hand, think starfish are charming. They stop and pick them up from the sand. They bring them home as souvenirs, maybe even make jewelry out of them. Isn’t it funny to think that starfish die, not because they’re so evil, but because they’re so pretty?
Her grandma loved car rides. Peyton couldn’t understand why, but it always meant that after church and the diner, they’d drive around the lake, her grandma with her hand on the windowsill, watching the boats and people go by. She’d lived in Black Bear all her life. What on earth could be so new and marvelous that she’d want to see it again and again? Peyton slumped in the backseat and seethed.
At last, they dropped her grandma off at the nursing home, and Peyton resumed her front-row seat. “Why does Grandma hate Dana so much?”
He glanced at her. “That what Grandma said, that she hates Dana?”
“Not exactly, but you’ve heard her. I think Dana did something to make Grandma really mad, something that hurt Mom.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Grandma wouldn’t say. All she told me was that it was a secret.”
“You know your grandma doesn’t always get things straight.”
Not this time. Grandma knew something and she knew enough not to tell. Peyton slouched in her seat and watched the houses roll past. She should have guessed her dad would be no help.
“Why are you so interested in this?” he asked.
She sighed, exasperated. “It’s about Mom.”
“Well, if Dana did something bad, your mom would have mentioned it.”
“She didn’t tell us she called Dana, did she?” Peyton shot back.
He frowned and she knew she’d struck a nerve.
Slightly abashed, she said in a softer voice, “Why do you think she kept that a secret, Dad?”
His voice was level when he replied. “I wish I knew.”
Peyton poked the plastic tube to the gravel bottom of her aquarium, and the fish scattered, wary. Water began dripping into the bucket at her feet. She moved the tube around, watching to make sure she didn’t accidentally suck up a fish.
She didn’t need to worry about the loach. Plump and sluglike, they were firmly attached to the glass with their suckers, industrious and purposeful. They always seemed so earnest to Peyton, as if they were constantly trying to prove their worth. But the dwarf rainbow fish with their tiny glowing eyes could be unpredictable. They were hiding near the thing that looked like melted wax but was supposed to be a volcano. Peyton had walked into the kitchen one morning to find it beside her bowl and her mother at the stove, casually stirring the oatmeal. The endlers preferred the little arched bridge and the lighthouse, both of which had been tucked into the toe of her Christmas stocking. The leader of the tank, her dwarf gourami, liked the plastic palm tree that Eric had given her because he said tropical fish needed to feel at home.
From outside her window came a steady banging as her dad worked on her mom’s car. Something or other had fallen off the week before her mom went into the hospital for the last time, and her dad had promised her he’d fix it. Peyton had no idea why he was working on it now, but maybe it was like why she was cleaning her aquarium. Something to do. Something normal.
Footsteps tapped rapidly down the hall. Dana always walke
d fast, as if she was impatient to get to wherever she was going. Peyton’s mom had had a more thoughtful stride, as if she’d been enjoying the trip and the destination could wait.
The footsteps halted and Peyton knew without looking that Dana stood in the doorway. Peyton felt Dana’s indecision and uncertainty, but she didn’t look over to rescue her. Instead, she focused on the tube, moving it around to suck up the debris mixed in with the gravel.
“Hi,” Dana said at last. “How was church?”
“Fine.” It was church. If it was so special, Dana would have gone.
“I’m heating up a hotdish for you and your dad.”
“I can do it. I did it last night.” Letting Dana know they didn’t need her. They certainly didn’t want her.
“Right.” Dana’s voice trailed off. Then she said, “Is that a dwarf gourami?”
How did she know that? It wasn’t like the fish was all that big, or all that remarkable looking. But somehow Dana had recognized it from where she stood in the doorway. She glanced over. “Yes,” she said grudgingly.
“I dated a guy who had a tank of them,” Dana said.
Despite herself, Peyton was even more intrigued. Not so much about the idea of her aunt dating, which was pretty interesting, but by the fact that she’d known a guy with a tank full of aggressive fish. So now Peyton had to ask, “How did he keep them from killing each other?”
“I think he had only males.”
That made sense. Peyton found herself saying, “You can come in if you want.” Then she looked back to the tube in her hand. Where had that come from?
Behind her, she heard Dana come into the room. Her footsteps were soft on the carpet. Peyton moved the tube to the next inch of gravel, poking it up and down to loosen the gunk collected at the bottom of the tank. She should have cleaned the tank weeks ago.
“You’ve got some neat posters,” Dana said. “What’s that fish called?”
Peyton glanced over and saw her aunt standing by the foot of her bed, looking at the huge skeletal monster with its pointed teeth and tiny dead eyes. “An anglerfish.”
“Why is the background black?”
“That photo was taken in the abyss. There’s no light down there.” It was only recently that scientists had been able to travel so deep undersea. They were discovering new species every day. Peyton couldn’t wait until it was her turn to go, to climb into the submersible and strap herself in.
“He’s lucky, then,” Dana said. “He’d never find a girlfriend if she could see how mean he looked.”
Girlfriend was a baby term. Dana meant mate. Did she think Peyton wouldn’t understand the concept? So it was with some satisfaction that Peyton corrected her. “Her.”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s a her. They’re dominant.”
“No kidding.” Dana sounded amused. She moved to the next poster, pinned above Peyton’s desk. “There’s one I recognize.”
Big deal. Everyone knew what that one was. “That’s a clownfish.” Her mom had gotten her that poster, back before she finally caved and let Peyton get real fish. “You know, like in Nemo.”
“Actually, I saw one off the coast of Australia.”
Really. “Like, in the ocean?”
“A couple of times.”
Peyton had never been anywhere near the ocean. The farthest distance she’d ever traveled had been sixty miles west to Fargo, which didn’t even have an aquarium. Mr. G’s three-hundred-gallon tank was the closest thing to a coral reef that she’d ever seen.
“I didn’t think I’d like it, but it was amazing,” Dana said. “ So many different kinds of fish, all living together in harmony.”
“That’s not harmony. It’s the will to survive. They all get something out of it. The poisonous fish harbor the fish that lure prey close enough for them to feed. The smaller fish eat the leftovers the bigger fish drop. The weaker fish hide among the corals and sponges, and bring the food to them.”
Dana nodded. She understood; she got it. “We couldn’t stay down long. We had to take all sorts of precautions. We weren’t allowed to touch anything, and we couldn’t even wear sunscreen. I got a terrible sunburn.” She laughed softly, probably at the memory of it.
“Coral looks hard as rock, but it’s really fragile. It can only grow under very specific conditions. The salinity has to be just right, the amount of sunlight, the temperature, the water current. If even one thing is off, coral dies.”
“Our guide told us that one-sixth of all animal species live in coral reefs.”
One-sixth of the whole world packed together in two-thousandths of the ocean. “If people only knew how important coral reefs are. All sorts of new medicines come from coral reefs. Antihistamines, antibiotics, even cancer drugs.”
“Really?” Dana had her head tilted, her eyes focused on Peyton as though her whole body were listening.
“NOAA says we’ve already lost nineteen percent of coral reefs, and they predict we’ll lose another fifteen percent in the next ten years.”
“Because of global warming?”
“And pollution. Lots of things.”
“Maybe things will turn around.”
“No, they won’t.” Wasn’t she even listening? Peyton yanked out the drainage tube from the tank. Water dribbled onto her toes. “It’s already too late.” The world would be over before she even got a chance to be really and truly in it.
“I’m sure—” Dana began.
“Don’t,” Peyton snapped. She didn’t want any lame reassurances that the whole world would suddenly come to its senses and everything would be all right. Every time she passed an SUV belching smoke or a crushed Styrofoam cup caught in someone’s flower bed, she knew just exactly where the world’s priorities lay. “Why are you here, anyway, Dana? What do you want?”
“Your mom wanted me here.”
“Since when did you care what my mom wanted? You don’t even know what my mom wanted.”
Dana said, “She left me a note.”
Peyton had just picked up the bucket so she could empty it, but that stopped her. “What note?”
“She wrote down my name in her notebook and then she crossed it out. I think that’s why she called me. She thought I was a doctor and she thought I could help.”
“Don’t call that a note. That’s nothing.”
“She was wrong, Peyton. I can help.”
Peyton laughed. “Wow. That is amazing. I didn’t know I had an aunt who could raise people from the dead.”
“Stop it, Peyton, and listen. Your mom wasn’t worried about herself. She was worried about you.”
“Don’t you think I know that? My mom loved me.” For some reason, Peyton was crying. “My mom did everything for me!” She didn’t know how she was going to survive without her mom.
Dana was crying now, too. “I know, sweetheart.”
That only made Peyton cry harder, great wrenching sobs that hiccupped out of her. “You don’t know . . . anything! What’s my middle . . . name? Do you know that?”
Dana could only shake her head, mute and miserable. Peyton pushed past her, glad she’d hurt her.
Alone in the bathroom, Peyton upended the bucket over the toilet and watched the dirty brown water swirl down the drain. Her mom had worried so much about Peyton that Peyton stopped telling her things, stuff she’d kept back to protect her, things she thought weren’t important but now knew were the most important of all: lime Jell-O at lunch that no one ate. Parallel parking in three moves instead of eight. The way Eric looked at her when he didn’t think she was watching.
Those were the things that connected her to her mom and her mom to her, and when you took them all away, all you had left were two cardboard figures propped up and apart, not even touching.
TWENTY-THREE
[DANA]
SIX HOURS AFTER THEY RELEASED ME FROM THE hospital, I carried my suitcase out to the car in the dark. You Julie whispered, though no one was shouldn’t be doing this, around to hear her.
It’s too soon.
Everything’s been set up, I lied. I’ll be fine.
The sharp cry of a newborn sailed out the window, and my heart twisted. Julie glanced over her shoulder. You’ll be back for Thanksgiving?
That was when I finally told her. I’m never coming back.
Julie’s face went white; she stared at me. Then . . . You can’t mean that.
It’s the only way.
I’ll come visit you.
Don’t. It has to be a clean break for both of us. Thank you for everything. You’ve been a wonderful sister. You’ll be a terrific mom.
Dana. Her voice soared high in anguish.
You can’t call or write me.
I can’t just let you go.
Julie. I threw my arms around her, the last time I would ever touch my sister, though I didn’t know it, and hugged her hard. We’ll always be together.
Sheri swung open her front door and smiled at me brightly. Something was up.
“Dana. Come on in.”
I’d barely taken two steps when the doorbell chimed again. “I hope you don’t mind,” Sheri said, putting her hand on the doorknob.
Of course it would be Joe standing on the front stoop. He looked surprised but then he smiled. I smiled, too, but the word he’d called me curled between us: outsider.
“Just like old times,” Sheri said happily.
We joined Mike in the family room. He lay on the green carpet, propped on an elbow, playing with his sons. “Hey, Dana. Joe.”
Light oak furniture, brown drapes, and mismatched pillows. A television screen dominated one wall, and a trio of hammered-metal ducks in flight decorated another. Toys lay scattered everywhere: blocks and puzzles, toy cars and army men, crayons and books. A child-sized table was by the fireplace, a big red plastic slide stood wedged into a corner. So this was what Sheri lived like, grown up.
“Come on in and dig out a place to sit.” She wasn’t the least bit apologetic about the mess, and I liked her for that. That was the girl I remembered, who wasn’t bothered by the surface stuff, who went right for what was important. “You guys want anything to drink? How about a beer? Mike?”
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