7
THAT SUMMER
The morning after the Summer Kid requested a book, Cadie and Daniela delivered Kidnapped to the rock ledge. The sun beat down from a cloudless sky, watching her like a giant eye as she bided time picking berries. She sucked on the end of her braid and tried to focus on filling her bucket. In a few days she would have enough money to buy a new bike seat.
“You ready?” Daniela said from her position a few bushes away.
“Yeah,” Cadie said, although she had room for another pint in her bucket. The boy must have found her book by now.
Cadie gripped the end of her paddle tighter than necessary to control the shaking in her hands. The water felt thick and resistant as she pulled the boat forward, toward the boy’s pier. The Summer Kid hunched over a book. Her book. The shush of a single page turning skittered across the water. His posture stiffened, but he did not look up at them.
Cadie squirmed, unable to contain her delight. What chapter was he reading? Was a book enough to distract him from whatever—or whoever—made him so jittery?
In bed that night she watched the shadow creatures sway on her bedroom wall and wondered what page of her book the boy read at that exact moment. What if he did not like her taste in books? Did he lick his finger to turn pages the way she did? Maybe he burrowed under the covers with a flashlight to hide the book from his captors. Cadie pulled her sheet up to her chin and scrunched her eyes closed.
A lonely thrush called out and Cadie wondered if the Summer Kid heard it too.
On the second day after they left the book, a red T-shirt hung from a branch on the ledge.
“It’s a sign,” Cadie shouted.
“Shhh. No kidding. I’m going up this time.”
Cadie folded her arms across her chest, wanting to protest, but unable to conjure a reason she should go instead.
Daniela slipped Cadie’s copy of The Dark Is Rising into the back of her waistband and splashed through the shallow water toward the rock wall. The gilded lettering on the spine of Kidnapped glinted in the sunlight below the T-shirt flag.
Cadie twisted her pigtail until it hurt, as Daniela swapped the books and slid down the rock face, a folded note clenched between her teeth.
Daniela wagged the paper over her head as she splashed toward the boat. Cadie almost fell in the water trying to grab it.
Thanks. I loved the book. Please bring another. I will get in BIG TROUBLE if you ever come to my dock. And so will you. No one can EVER see you. I’m serious. It’s dangerous.
He liked her book. She bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a smile.
“Do you think he’s in trouble? Like, for real?” Daniela pushed off from the shore and paddled toward home.
Cadie shrugged, already planning the next book she would bring after The Dark Is Rising. Two days later Cadie scrambled up the rock and left The Outsiders, then later that week replaced it with Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret, at Daniela’s insistence, although Cadie had argued against it.
Days later Cadie felt a twinge of dread as they approached the drop-off spot, where she expected to see a flag indicating he had finished Are You There God. Such a quick read. Unless he hated it.
Along the shoreline the patchwork of maples, oaks, and birch trees glowed with a near-neon green, except for a single maple branch whose leaves had turned prematurely. Cadie scanned the ledge for the red shirt, but it wasn’t there. He should have finished the book by now.
As they rounded the peninsula, Cadie braced herself for the rush of fear and anticipation she always felt as they approached the Summer Kid’s pier. The pages of Are You There God fluttered open on the dock next to his empty chair.
Cadie thrust her oar down into the water, breaking their forward momentum.
“Why are you stopping? He didn’t leave a signal,” Daniela said.
“He needs a new book.” They never should have left him a Judy Blume book. It felt as if Daniela had been mocking Cadie by suggesting it. Daniela leaned back on her elbows while Cadie guided the boat to shore by herself.
Cadie scrambled up the rocks with a paperback Tuck Everlasting clenched between her teeth. She almost fell backward when she cleared the top of the ledge and found the boy sitting cross-legged a few feet away. She froze, afraid to breathe. Until that moment, the Summer Kid had been a character whose story she controlled in her mind. To be so close to him that she could see his chest rise and fall felt like stepping into someone else’s story.
Cadie looked over her shoulder at Daniela, lying on her back in the boat with her eyes closed. The boy crawled toward her on his knees and extended a hand to pull her up. “Thanks for the books.”
Her throat clamped shut at the shock of his voice. Cadie accepted his hand and pulled her torso onto the warm rock ledge. She swung her legs over the top and sat next to him, her feet dangling over the water. It looked higher than she expected, and she wondered if he admired her bravery for scaling the wall to deliver his books.
“Is it safe?” Cadie found her voice although it came out raspy. She looked around at the towering pines, identical to those in her own yard.
“Yeah. I’m alone, for now.” The boy fidgeted, unable to make eye contact for more than a few seconds. “They’re your books, aren’t they?”
“How can you tell?
“I just can.”
“Sorry about that last one.”
The boy blushed but didn’t respond.
The warmth of where his hand had touched hers lingered, rushing up her forearm. His eyes seemed slightly asymmetrical, the corner of his left eye drooping a bit lower than his right. It gave him a vulnerable appearance, like a puppy.
He looked over his shoulder and chewed on his cuticle.
Cadie wanted to speak but couldn’t think of anything to say to the boy she had imagined so many conversations with. A squirrel jumped from a branch overhead. The boy startled and looked back at the cabin again.
“What’s wrong?” Cadie asked.
“You should go. He’ll be back soon.”
“Who? Are you in danger?” Cadie felt like a character in one of her books.
“My uncle. I live with him.”
A chipmunk poked its head out from under a rock next to the boy’s leg. He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag with bread crumbs.
“What about your parents?” Cadie watched as he placed a pile of crumbs a few inches away. The chipmunk twitched its nose, bobbed back under the rock, then popped out and scooped the morsels into its cheeks.
He looked past her at the lake. “They died in a car crash when I was eight.”
“Oh.” Cadie scooted back away from the edge. The chipmunk sat back on its hind legs with its head cocked to one side, as if listening to their conversation. The animal didn’t flinch when the boy placed another pile of bread inches away.
“What’s so scary about your uncle?”
“He’s mean. I don’t want him being, well, mean to you.” The boy turned away from the animal to look at Cadie. “I don’t want him to see you.”
She squirmed under the weight of his stare and turned to look him in the eye. “Why don’t you tell someone if he’s that bad? I could help you.”
“No,” he said. The chipmunk jumped at the change of tone and scurried away with bulging cheeks. The boy turned in the direction the chipmunk had fled and tossed a handful of crumbs. He made a low tut tut with his tongue against the roof of his mouth. But the animal did not reappear. The boy’s shoulders slumped. “I’d get sent back to foster care. And I’m never going back there.”
“Wouldn’t it be better than living here, if he’s that bad?”
The boy turned his head and lifted his shaggy hair off his collar, revealing a circle of purple scars. He dropped his hair down to cover them.
“Cigarette burns. And that’s not the worst of it. Not even close.” He narrowed his eyes and leaned his face closer to Cadie’s. “I’ll never go back there.”
Cadie
shuddered, in part at the sight of the scars, but mostly because of the way his voice lowered to a tone that sounded like an adult as he said never.
“It’s just you and him?” She regretted all the times she had wiped her mother’s kisses away.
“I moved in with him two years ago. He can be a jerk, but it’s way better than my foster dad.”
“How come you don’t go to school?”
“Cadie!” Daniela called.
“I’ll be right down.” Cadie squirmed, not wanting to leave, not wanting to keep Daniela waiting.
“I go to boarding school. My dad went there, and my grandad. I’m their charity case since my parents died. But in the summer, I have to live here with him.”
She picked up a small rock and hurled it into the woods. A sharp squawk rose from the bushes and several crows rushed from the bush where Cadie’s stone landed.
“Why’d you do that?” The boy flinched.
“I didn’t mean to. I’d never hurt an animal on purpose.” Cadie felt nauseous. Her aim never failed, even when she didn’t try to hit anything. She silently vowed never to throw a rock unless she could see where it would land.
“I know. It’s okay,” he said. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me too,” she whispered. “But I should go.”
He put his hand on top of hers before she turned to lower herself down the ledge. His face was so close to hers. His eyes were the shocking blue of the ocean in movies. The color seemed to churn like water as he stared at her. Cadie held her breath, afraid she smelled like the peanut butter she had spread on an English muffin that morning.
“Wait.” He leaned closer and kissed her, right on the mouth. Not a long movie kiss, but a feathery touch that lingered for just a few seconds. Cadie felt the blush burn under her skin, through her torso and chest. When he pulled his head back Cadie grinned more than she would have liked. She wished she had been cooler, but the smile burst with a small laugh before she thought to contain it.
The boy smiled back and wrinkled his nose, as if a little embarrassed, but pleased at Cadie’s reaction.
“Do you want anything besides books? Do you have food?” She blushed. Of course he had food.
He smiled a half-formed, crooked smile. “He feeds me. Just books.” He leaned forward and looked down toward the water. “But you could write back.”
“Back to what?”
“The notes.”
“Cadie! Come on.”
“Coming.” Cadie stood up and brushed the dirt off her shorts. “What notes?”
“In the books. They’re for you.”
“I have to go.”
“I’m Garrett.”
“Cadie.”
Garrett stood about three inches taller than Cadie. He stood so close she had to tilt her head back to look at him.
“You’ll come back?”
She nodded, wondering if he could hear the pounding of her heart.
“But you can’t ever come near unless you see me on the dock, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Will you still bring books?”
“For as long as you need me.” She felt a blush rise up her neck. “I mean as long as you want books.”
That night Cadie waited until her parents had gone to bed before she pulled Kidnapped, The Dark Is Rising, and The Outsiders under the covers with a flashlight. She shook the books, fanned through all the pages, but she didn’t find any notes. Maybe Daniela had intercepted them and thought they were for her.
Cadie’s face grew hot. Of course Daniela would assume the notes were for her. Boys noticed Daniela. She carried an easy confidence that made everyone want to sit next to her. She didn’t flip her hair or look up through fluttering eyelashes. She slouched and looked you straight in the eye when she talked. If she didn’t know something, she would ask without shame, which somehow made her seem even smarter.
But Garrett chose Cadie.
She opened Kidnapped to the first page and read the opening sentence, imagining what Garrett had been thinking as he read her first book. Did he think about her? Did he get lost in the story the way she did? She stuck her nose into the crease between the pages and inhaled. The pages smelled vaguely of cinnamon gum and the metallic edge of lake water.
Sitting cross-legged under the tent of her covers she aimed the flashlight on the opening page. Halfway down, a dull pencil line underscored the letter I. Cadie’s heart thumped so hard it hurt. She turned the page and found a faintly underlined L. The air under the covers felt muggy and hot, but she kept turning the pages. I. K. E. Y. O. She couldn’t hold the letters in her racing mind, so she grabbed her journal and pen from her nightstand.
I like your braids. If you find this note, wear ribbons on your braids so I know you read this.
She pulled the book in tight to her chest and hugged it. She didn’t bother pulling the covers over her head. She picked up The Dark Is Rising and held the musty cover to her lips as she wriggled back against her headboard. With her flashlight in her mouth aimed at the book, she opened to the first page. And there she saw it—a faint line, barely more than a smear, under the letter A. She transcribed Garrett’s second message.
Are your eyes green? I’d like to see them close up.
8
PRESENT DAY
Cadie tripped on a rock pushing its way up through the gravel parking lot of the Maple Crest Police Department. The edge of granite rose a few inches above the ground, but Cadie suspected the block extended deep below the surface. Ice heaves had forced it skyward, despite the construction crew’s best efforts to grade the gravel. Next spring it would thrust itself even higher. There was no stopping it. No ignoring it.
Daniela caught Cadie’s elbow to steady her.
“Anything we say in there, we can’t take it back.” Cadie stopped walking as they approached the stairs to the police station. “Maybe we should talk to your dad first.”
“No. We’re doing this. Now.” Daniela drew her shoulders back.
Daniela had shaken the truth, dislodged it so that it no longer settled in place when Cadie stopped moving. It swelled uncomfortably in her chest, barely leaving room for her to breathe.
The thermometer outside the door read eighty-eight degrees. Too hot for 9 A.M. Sweating made people look guilty. Cadie wiped her forehead with her hand and peeled her shirt from the damp skin on her lower back where it had been pressed against the vinyl car seat.
The heavy metal door resisted as Cadie pushed it open to a lobby filled with the smell of fresh paint, printer ink, and coffee. The burst of air-conditioning sharpened the throbbing in her temples.
“We have information about a crime.” Daniela didn’t bother introducing herself to the woman sitting behind the desk wearing bright pink lipstick and a lime cardigan. Cadie paced behind Daniela.
“What kind of crime are we talking about?” the woman said without looking up.
“We’d like to talk to an officer. In private,” Daniela said.
The woman wrinkled her brow. She looked offended.
“There’s no one available but the deputy chief. If this is a traffic thing, or missing wallet, you’re better off filling out an incident report and letting us follow up, okay, dear?”
“It’s not an incident. It’s a crime,” Daniela said.
“Okay, okay.” The woman looked at the clock. “But he has to be over at the middle school in less than an hour, so don’t make him late.”
“We’d like to talk to him.” Daniela put a hand on her hip, the way she did when they were kids.
Cadie had to turn around so the receptionist wouldn’t see her smile.
The woman shook her head as she walked down the hall. “I’ve got a couple of women out here who insist on talking to you about some crime. I tried to get them to fill out a report.”
“What’s the problem?” a man’s voice said.
“They won’t say.” She sighed. “I’ll come interrupt you so you won’t be late.”
Daniela rolled
her eyes at Cadie. “Does she think we can’t hear her?”
The sweat on Cadie’s skin grew clammy in the air-conditioning. The clock above the receptionist’s desk ticked loudly.
“Follow me.” The woman gestured to them.
Cadie had spent twenty-seven years pushing the story down, training her brain not to think about it. She had bitten the inside of her cheek, dug her nails into the palms of her hands so often her nerves were numb to the distractions. As she walked down the corridor in the police station, the past clawed its way up her throat, demanding to be spoken.
The door to the deputy chief’s office stood open. A tall man dressed in street clothes stood up and extended a hand to Daniela. “Come on in. I’m Deputy Chief Tierney.”
Daniela shook his hand. “I’m Daniela.”
Cadie hung in the doorway. One more step and there would be no going back.
“Can we close the door?” Daniela said.
Daniela looked at Cadie and tilted her head, urging her to come in. The receptionist hovered in the doorway.
“Whatever makes you comfortable,” the officer said.
The receptionist shrugged and closed the door, forcing Cadie inside the room.
“We have information about the remains the fire crews uncovered,” Daniela said before Cadie had a chance to sit down.
Officer Tierney shifted in his squeaky chair. The air conditioner whirred with dogged determination. Dried sweat pulled Cadie’s skin tight.
“It’s probably not what you think.” He picked up a pen and twisted the two ends apart until the spring popped out and bounced to the floor. He leaned over to pick it up.
Daniela motioned for Cadie to sit down next to her. Cadie walked over to the chair, but remained standing. She squeezed her throbbing fingertip, searching for a spike of pain to distract her.
“There’ve been a lot of rumors,” he said, his head still under the desk searching for the spring. “The remains have been out there a long time, decades it looks like, so I’m not sure what information you could have.”
“We lived here then. We remember it,” Daniela said. “And we know—”
Waiting for the Night Song Page 6