Waiting for the Night Song

by Julie Carrick Dalton

  “Not the way I expected. I hit a—” Cadie paused at the memory of the bear’s blinking eyes. Witnessing the animal’s death felt suddenly intimate, not something she was ready to share. “I hit a roadblock and almost missed the meeting.”

  He slouched as he leaned on the counter with one hand. His outline, although bigger and broader now, followed the same angles Cadie remembered from the boy on the pier. She doubted she would ever be able to look at him without seeing both versions—the boy and the man.

  “I still have a job. For now, at least. All these grad students, I don’t even know where the hell they came from, showed up to support me. I think they’re all looking at my situation as a test case on whether or not research institutions are going to push back against the restrictions cutting off access to public land,” Cadie said, keeping her back to the window overlooking the ledge. “They think I’m some martyr, but honestly, I just want to prove I’m right about these beetles. They can fight for their own research.” Sharing her news with Garrett felt comfortable, something she could get used to.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting so long,” he said.

  “I was early,” Cadie said.

  “But you’ve been waiting for me your whole life.” The corners of his mouth turned up.

  “You found the book.”

  “It’s about time you wrote back.” He put a bottle of wine, two glasses, and several plastic food containers in a cooler and they walked back down to the pier.

  Clouds cast a patchwork of shadows across the mountains as they motored toward the center of the lake. They cruised by the marina where Garrett and Tino taught wakeboard lessons, and by the landing where the high school crew team launched their boats. A velvety breeze gathered as they moved into the opening of the bay. Cadie closed her eyes. The spray of the lake, the tenderness of the evening, stirred a longing for something she couldn’t name. Escape, maybe? A respite from her fear, a break from fires and guilt.

  Garrett slowed down and cut the engine.

  “Any updates on that fire?” Garrett said.

  “No major damage. Not that I wanted to see the Hobson fire happen, but I have to admit the timing helped make my case.”

  “We should celebrate.” He brushed a strand of hair out of Cadie’s face, leaned close, and squinted. “I knew it. Your eyes are green.”

  Her whole life had been moored to the distant specter of that summer. Tethered to Garrett.

  “I hope white’s okay?” He poured two glasses of Chardonnay. He reached into a cooler and lifted out carefully prepared containers of cheese, olives, grapes, smoked salmon, and a baguette, already sliced. He arranged the food on a cutting board.

  The horizon bloomed with an apricot glow that seemed as thoughtfully planned as the meal Garrett laid out. She sucked on a briny olive as he arranged separate knives for a hard cheese and Brie, her favorite. Condensation slid down the wine bottle, leaving warped trails on the label.

  The unmoored boat rolled with the swells.

  Cadie swallowed a sip of wine. She wanted to feel calm and relaxed, focused on the present moment. But the itch and gnaw of unease wouldn’t release her as her mind drifted from the sunset to the bear to her encounter with Clyde at the rec center.

  “You look like him,” Cadie said. The patchy gray scruff on Garrett’s chin blended in with the rest of his three-day-old beard, a shade or two darker than the lemon-yellow hair she remembered.

  Garrett stared at the chalky smear of sunset blanketing the mountains. Cadie thought for a moment he hadn’t heard her. He took a long swallow of wine. “He’s my mother’s half brother.”

  “I saw him today.” A gust of wind stirred the silvery leaves of a birch tree extending over the lake. Tightly curled tips of young lily shafts pierced the surface under the willowy birch branches. The swift breeze skimmed the surface of the lake, lifting the edges of mature lily pads to reveal their red underbellies.

  Garrett shifted in his seat and cracked his neck.

  “He was lurking around Sal at the rec center, leaning over her, putting his hand on her shoulder like they were old friends. I think he did it on purpose to threaten me, or send me a message or something.”

  “He volunteers there.” Garrett offered Cadie a piece of bread.

  “It wouldn’t be the first time he tried to scare me. He found me, alone outside the library one night after the shooting.” Cadie had never told anyone but Daniela about the encounter. “He said he’d expose Daniela’s family if I told anyone.”

  Garrett looked down at his sneakers and chewed on his lip for a few seconds. “He won’t hurt Sal. He wouldn’t have hurt you back then either. Or the Garcias. He was scared.”

  “Are you kidding? I had every right to be afraid of him. Then and now.” Cadie stood up and walked to the back of the boat.

  “No, I get it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry he scared you.” Garrett followed her. He looked agitated as he combed his fingers through his hair. “I’m not saying he’s a fantastic guy or anything. He never knew what was the right thing to do. He made a lot of mistakes, but he never gave up on me.”

  “He made sure you didn’t starve, so now I’m supposed to just forget that he killed someone?” The humidity of late summer wobbled between warmth and chill.

  “He set up a college account for me right after the incident. Instead of living here, we moved a couple of miles away and he rented the cottage out. He banked all the rental income for my tuition. He said that’s what my mom would have wanted. We moved away the summer after I met you and lived in a one-bedroom dive a few towns over. He started landscaping, then eventually started his own business.”

  “None of that makes what he did any better. Isn’t there any part of you aching to tell the truth?” Cadie said.

  “There would be a lot of fallout, you know. Just because we can’t be charged, doesn’t mean there won’t be serious ramifications for all of us. The hospital could fire Daniela. You could lose that job you’re fighting to keep. And me? How could I keep my job as a police officer?” He took a swallow of wine. “I’m meeting with the chief tomorrow. I can convince him to back off Raúl. You promised me two more days to figure this out.”

  Cadie had been trying to evade the natural order of consequences for nearly thirty years. The cloak she hid behind felt thin and worn, but she clung to it like an old friend. She could wait two more days.

  Time seemed to be moving slower and faster simultaneously since her past had begun seeping out in wisps and torrents. Floating in the middle of the lake offered a respite, as if she and Garrett had stepped outside of time.

  She folded bits of smoked salmon on the bread. It had been a long time since someone had made her dinner. She smiled remembering the kissy noises Daniela used to make whenever Cadie mentioned the Summer Kid.

  “What are you grinning about?” Garrett said.

  “It feels like this conversation was a long time coming. Like we’re supposed to be here together right now.”

  Mountains cresting in the distance appeared crisp, as if Cadie could reach out and crush them in her fist. Green leaves tempered with prematurely brown edges. She closed her eyes so she didn’t have to look at the warming of her forest or the exposed watermarks on the rocks near shore. She wanted the lake and the mountains to look and feel the way they had before it all turned dark. Before the boat, before Garrett, before Clyde.

  Cadie wrapped her arms around her waist against the cooling air. Garrett pulled a fleece blanket from under a seat cushion and put it over her shoulders. A wave rocked the boat and she allowed her body to fall against him. Nothing could touch them in the middle of the lake. Not the fires, not Clyde.

  She closed her eyes and breathed in the mist, the clouds, and the linger of honeysuckle.

  Garrett’s phone rang. Cadie willed him not to answer it.

  The voice on the other end shouted, but Cadie couldn’t make out the words.

  “There’s another fire,” Garrett said after he hung up. “We need to go ba
ck. I’m really sorry.”

  “Where? Is it bad?”

  “It sounds pretty minor. Just a brush fire. We need to set up some detours outside of town near Talbot’s Sugarhouse. It sounds like it’s mostly under control, no buildings involved. It shouldn’t take longer than an hour or two to reroute traffic. I don’t suppose you want to meet me at the Deer Park later?”

  “Yeah, maybe. I’ll see if Daniela’s up for shooting some pool. We could meet you there.”

  Garrett scrunched his nose up and raked his hand through his hair.

  “What?”

  “Daniela doesn’t like me much.”

  “Can you blame her?”

  “Not really, I guess,” he said. “I was looking forward to a quiet night with you.”

  “We’ve got all the time in the world.” Cadie tried not to let the disappointment seep into her voice as he turned the boat around.

  25

  THAT SUMMER

  The morning after the search party at Crittenden Farm, Cadie lay in bed as her parents hustled around the house getting ready to go into the studio. “I’m going back to bed.” Cadie tried to make her voice sound sleepy when her mom came to say good-bye. “I’ll call you at lunch.”

  After her parents’ car drove out of the driveway, Cadie sat up in her bed. Garrett’s unfinished reading list stared at her. She moved the stack of A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, Great Expectations, To Kill a Mockingbird, and A Wrinkle in Time to the other side of the room, but the melancholy of unread books accumulated like a raincloud.

  A rapid pounding on the door startled her.

  Clyde could have changed his mind about trusting Cadie to stay quiet. He could have watched to see when her parents left.

  Friar leapt off Cadie’s bed and ran toward the kitchen.

  “Friar, come back,” Cadie hissed.

  The pounding grew more furious, then stopped abruptly. Cadie crawled across the floor and locked her bedroom door. Footsteps marched around the porch, crunched on the gravel driveway. She ducked inside her closet and pulled the door closed. She wriggled behind her long winter coat in the back corner and tried to make herself small, invisible.

  A pebble crashed against her window. Then another.

  “Cadie, I know you’re in there,” Daniela yelled. “I saw your parents and they told me.”

  She felt silly sitting on the closet floor, but she didn’t come out right away. It was easier to avoid Daniela than to face her accusing eyes.

  Friar barked loudly from the hall and scratched at the outside of Cadie’s door.

  “Cadie Kessler, you can’t hide forever,” Daniela yelled. “Open the door.”

  Cadie pulled herself up and opened the kitchen door.

  “We need to talk.” Daniela pressed her face inches from the opening. Instead of her usual ponytail, Daniela wore her hair loose and unbrushed.

  “About what?” Cadie opened the door.

  “What do you think?”

  Maybe Daniela was pushing Cadie to see if she would keep Dolores’s secret. It felt like a trap. Cadie’s insides went cold as if her blood had stopped moving.

  “I trusted you,” Daniela said.

  Cadie walked into the family room, lowered herself onto the couch, and squeezed a fistful of her grandmother’s afghan.

  “Did your mom ask you about the kid? About Garrett?”

  “I think she forgot about that part. I’m only here because I need to know what happened to Juan. We have to go back and ask that kid.”

  “No way. It’s too dangerous.” Cadie couldn’t let Daniela talk to Garrett. He might tell her that Cadie and Dolores had helped him.

  “What if Juan’s fine and we’re worrying for nothing?” Cadie pulled the afghan over her head. The pilled wool smelled like everything that had ever happened in her life. Her mother’s beef stroganoff, the lake, Friar’s breath. But instead of comforting her, it amplified her unease.

  “Maybe he’s hurt,” Daniela said. “Maybe he is still at that kid’s house. Maybe we could still save him.”

  “He’s not okay!” Cadie yelled, and pulled the blanket tighter around her head.

  “How do you know?”

  “I know.” Friar licked her toes, trying to comfort her. She pulled her feet under the blanket with her. Her breath came fast and heavy and she felt dizzy. Her insides felt like they were going to explode from the pressure of all the truths and untruths battling inside her.

  “Tell me what you know.” Daniela yanked the blanket off.

  Daniela deserved to know what happened to Juan. “After I left your house, I ran into the woods. I couldn’t go home. My parents would have known something was wrong.”

  Daniela sat down next to Cadie.

  “I followed the creek back along the easement toward Garrett’s property. I don’t know why I went. It was stupid. Then I heard them.” Letting a half-truth out might relieve some of the pressure.

  “Heard who?”

  “Who do you think? They were dragging something. I hid in a bush. At first, I couldn’t tell what, but they got closer.” Cadie looked up to assess if Daniela believed her story. “It was Juan. They were dragging him through the woods.”

  Daniela squeezed her eyes shut as Cadie squashed her last bit of hope that Juan had survived. “Was he…?”

  “Yeah. He was dead.” Saying the words made Cadie feel sick.

  “What did you do?”

  “They started digging a hole and I snuck away.” Lying to Daniela made her feel sicker.

  Daniela got up and walked around the room. Her chin trembled, but she did not cry. “He was my friend.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Cadie was sorry for breaking her promise and telling Dolores about Garrett, sorry about lying to Daniela.

  “Take me there.” Daniela stood with a balled-up fist on each hip.

  “No way. I’m not going back there. Ever.”

  Daniela pulled at Cadie’s arms, but Cadie let her body go limp.

  “Cadie Kessler, you are going to take me to that grave.”

  Inside her head Cadie screamed an apology. She wanted to throw herself on the ground and beg Daniela to forgive her. You are the best friend I’ve ever had. I would do anything to take it all back. But Cadie couldn’t speak the words crushing her from the inside. Her tongue felt swollen. Her thoughts jumbled.

  Cadie squeezed her eyes shut, pushing out the echo of the shovel in the dirt that played over and over in her mind. Chush, thud. Chush, thud.

  “Please.” Daniela didn’t look mad as much as she did desperate. She dropped to her knees in front of the couch. “I need to see it.”

  Cadie didn’t know how seeing the grave would help anything, but maybe if Cadie helped her find it, Daniela would forgive Cadie for having told Dolores in the first place.

  They walked through the woods without speaking. Friar stayed close to her legs. Everything looked normal, which made her want to yell at the gurgling waters of Silas Creek, scream at the trees, and shake Daniela. Nothing should ever be normal again. The sunshine, the squeak of her sneakers, it all felt wrong. She wished she were back in her closet, hiding behind her winter coat.

  She paused at the cluster of bushes where she and Daniela first met that day in the woods. Blueberries were scattered farther apart on the August branches, no longer slipping off in lush clusters of eight or ten at a time. Some bushes had already given up and begun transitioning to a subtle flush of red leaves.

  Cadie pulled off a leaf and turned it over. Lines of purplish red spiked up the underside of the leaf, defining the exact place where the bush had declared summer over. Maybe that’s how summer always ended. A moment that turned one leaf from green to red, a moment no one noticed unless they were looking for it.

  The young birch tree still lay across the buckled barbed-wire fence. Brown leaves curled on the ends of the branches chattered in the breeze.

  “We have to crawl under.” Cadie stretched her jaw open and shut.

  She wa
ded into the water and dropped to her hands and knees. She crawled under the opening, shimmying so low her stomach and chest were half submerged. Careful not to catch her hair on a barb, she ducked through the small space, twisted sideways to get one shoulder, then the next through the opening. As Cadie shimmied under the fence, a barb snagged the back of her shorts. She tugged, but it wouldn’t release. Daniela splashed over to Cadie and stood in the water above her.

  “Are you going to help me?”

  “You look pretty funny. Like a fish on a hook,” Daniela said.

  Cadie’s hands and lower legs felt numb from the cold water. Sharp rocks poked into her knees. She tugged harder, shaking the fence. “Unhook it!” she yelled. Tears burned her eyes. “Now!”

  Daniela untangled the barb and Cadie slithered through.

  Cadie sat in the cold water staring at Daniela on the other side of the fence.

  “It wasn’t funny. I’m sorry,” Daniela said. “We can go back if you want.”

  Cadie shook her head. “Are you coming?”

  Daniela crawled under the fence. Friar followed.

  It seemed darker on that side. The trees stood taller and huddled closer to block out the light. The girls walked through the water where they wouldn’t leave any footprints.

  “You know I wouldn’t have left you there, right?” Daniela whispered.

  Cadie stopped in the middle of the creek after they had walked about fifteen minutes. Cadie guided them toward the burial site, but let Daniela find it first.

  Daniela touched Cadie’s shoulder and pointed to the mound of freshly turned earth covered in rocks about twenty feet from the creek.

  “Can we go now?” Cadie whispered. “What if someone comes back?”

  Daniela climbed the bank.

  Cadie tried to grab Friar’s collar to stop him from following Daniela, but he pulled free of Cadie’s grip.

  Daniela knelt in the loose soil in front of the oval-shaped mound. She looked so small among the tall trees. Daniela squeezed a fistful of mud until it oozed from between her fingers. Her knuckles blanched, then burned red. Her shoulders rocked with small heaves that mounted into silent, convulsive spasms.