by Gerri Hill
She tilted her head, watching him tie his shoes. “Jack?”
He looked up. “Uh-huh.”
“What do you do down at the creek?”
He shrugged. “Stuff.”
“Stuff? What kind of stuff?”
He shrugged again. “We fish. We talk. We put our feet in the water.”
“We?”
He nodded. “Me and Lindsey. The dogs play in the water.”
“Barney’s…friend?”
“Yeah. Max. Sometimes Lindsey brings me a sandwich.” The he grinned. “She brings me a Coke too. And a beer for her.”
Hannah’s eyes widened. How old was this imaginary friend of his, anyway? Well, enough was enough. She had to put an end to this. Other than forbidding him to go to the creek and dragging him—against his will—to the river for a day of swimming, her only option was to expose this so-called friend.
“Jack…how about I meet this friend that you say you have?”
He looked at her, his blue eyes blinking back at her. “I don’t know. She might not want to meet you. She’s kinda…private.”
“I see.” She put her hands on her hips in her best imitation of her own mother. “Well, I want to meet her. In fact, I insist on it.”
He shrugged. “Okay,” he said easily. “I’ll ask her.”
He then ran for the door, Barney at his heels. “Be back later,” he said as the door slammed shut.
She watched through the window as he hurried down the hill with his fishing pole. She admitted he did look happier. A lot happier. And she couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen him cry. That should count for something. But still…she felt like she’d abandoned him, forced him to invent a friend to play with. Not only that, he’d also made up a friend for Barney. How sad was that?
She was now more worried than before. Not only was his imaginary friend a girl…she was apparently old enough to drink beer. Where in the world would that have come from?
Should she tell Margie about it? Oh, God…as soon as that thought popped into her head, she pushed it aside.
“Don’t be crazy,” she murmured. Instead, she grabbed her phone and called her mother.
“Great minds think alike. I was just about to call you,” came her mother’s familiar voice. “How are you, honey?”
“Worried,” she admitted. “About Jack,” she clarified.
“What’s wrong? I thought you said he seemed to be more like his old self.”
“Yeah, but it’s the reason for that that’s got me worried. He has this…this friend,” she said.
“What’s wrong with that? Wasn’t that why you moved there? So Jack could get a fresh start?”
She heard her mother pour a cup of coffee and she eyed her own pot, seeing that there was enough left for another cup.
“Well, this friend comes complete with a friend for Barney too. Oh, did I mention she’s a she?” she asked as she poured the last of it into her cup.
“What are you talking about?”
“I left him alone, on his own. When we got to this house, I thought I’d been thrown back into the 1950s or something. I told you the condition of the house. Did I tell you about the wallpaper in the kitchen?” She glanced at the wall that was now bare of the offending paper, ready for paint instead.
“You did. What has this to do with Jack?”
“He seemed to be content going off to the creek by himself. I put some boundaries down there.”
Her mother laughed. “Yes, you told me you cut up one of Mrs. Larson’s old dresses.”
Hannah laughed too. “It was forty years old, if it was a day!” Her smile faded. “Anyway, I left him alone too much, I guess. He’s made up this friend, Mom. And he’s made up a friend for Barney too. Not only has he made up a friend, it’s a girl and she drinks beer! And he’d rather be with this…this person than go with me to the park where we could go swimming. You know how much he likes to swim. That’s why I’m worried.”
“Oh, honey, kids make up imaginary friends all the time. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”
“Yeah, kids. Jack isn’t a kid. He’s mature for his age to begin with, not to mention he’ll be ten in November.”
“I think you’re overreacting.”
She sighed. “James would say the same thing.”
“That’s because James never worried about a thing. You did enough of that for the both of you.” Her mother paused. “So how are you doing?”
Hannah looked out the window, seeing the empty space where Jack had been. “I’m lonely too,” she admitted. “Margie is my only outlet for conversation. You can imagine how that goes.”
“How was the family party last Saturday?”
“Oh, about like I expected. Jack and I felt out of place. And Nathan’s kids, well, they picked on Jack constantly and the parents didn’t do a thing. I wanted to wring their little necks.”
“Having second thoughts on moving?”
“I’m way past second,” she said with a laugh. “Once school starts, well, I’ll become involved in that.”
“Are you considering teaching again?”
“Mom, I’ve been out of the classroom for nine years. I barely remember the two years I did teach. So no. I am going to talk to the principal, though, and see about volunteering or something. There’s also a small public library in town. I thought I might go by there and see if I could volunteer a few hours there too.”
“Well, you make friends easily, honey. I’m sure once you meet people, things will get better,” her mother said.
“I suppose. In the meantime…are you and Dad up for a visit some weekend? I know you’re going to San Diego soon. Maybe when you’re back from your trip?”
“Of course. We would love for you and Jack to visit. And once you get everything squared away there, we want to come see your new place.”
“Yes, I remember. I’m afraid I haven’t gotten to the spare bedroom yet.”
“We’re not picky.”
“I know. I’ve just crammed all the unwanted stuff in there for now,” she said with a laugh. “Well, I suppose I should let you go. I’ve got paint samples to go over.”
“Okay, honey. And don’t worry about Jack and his new friend. It’ll blow over on its own.”
“Well, it might be over very soon. I told Jack I wanted to meet his friend. I’m sure he’ll have a good excuse as to why I can’t. I’ll just keep after him.”
“Like you said, he’s mature for his age. You could always ask him.”
“I know…but I don’t want to embarrass him. I’d rather this go away quietly and we never talk about it again.”
Chapter Eleven
Lindsey sat down on the rock that Jack normally used when he waited for her. He was usually there before her, and she wondered if maybe his mom had something for him to do today. She tossed the rock she was holding into the creek and looked over her shoulder. Max was half-in, half-out of the water, already chewing on a stick.
She admitted that it was a little weird—this friendship that she and Jack had struck up. She wasn’t entirely sure how healthy it was either. She knew that Jack wasn’t her nephew. Of course she knew that. But the void she had in her life was huge, and he helped fill a small part of it. She actually looked forward to the days now instead of dreading them. And earlier, after breakfast, she and Max had gone down to the river. She’d taken the lane down to her parents’ cabin. Yeah…her heart had lodged in her throat and she hadn’t been able to stop there, but she’d taken the Mule past the house, down to the river. The old rope swing was there, dangling lazily from the cypress branch that her brother—years and years ago—had climbed up on to hang it.
She’d gone with the intent of getting in the river and she’d dressed appropriately…river shorts and water sandals. Unfortunately, she’d forgotten a swim top so she’d simply pulled her T-shirt over her head and tossed it down, her sports bra sufficing. She’d gone out to the pier and taken the rope in her hands, listening for the sounds of l
aughter, of clapping and cheering. Listening for the voice of her youngest niece, begging to swing out with her.
It was unusually quiet, though. A lone cardinal, bright red against the soft green of the cypress branch, landed next to her. He, too, was silent. Then his sharp, metallic sound rang out…crystal clear in the silence. He tilted his head, watching her, then once more his song echoed through the trees. To her, he sounded lonesome. Was he all alone? Then she heard it. Upstream, an answering call resonated and the cardinal flew off toward it. She watched the bird until it disappeared from sight, then, without much ceremony, she took a tighter hold of the rope, pushing off the pier like she’d done hundreds of times before.
She’d landed with a splash in the cold, clear river, surfacing with a loud “whoa” as the cold water surrounded her. She floated there for a second. It was a very lonely sound…the absence of laughter.
Then Max barked. And barked again. He walked to the edge of the pier, looking at her in the water. He tilted his head, then barked again.
“Well, come on in.”
He was a Lab…a water dog, yet he hadn’t been swimming. She waded over to the edge, coaxing him off the pier. He came around to the bank, walking across the cypress knees, just out of her reach…as if he knew what she’d planned.
“Come on, boy.”
She’d finally grabbed him and pulled him into the water, his paws moving wildly as if swimming even before he touched down. She walked him out into deeper water, then let him go. He headed straight back toward the bank, stopping when he touched bottom. She did that three times before he finally took his first swim, moving past her into the deeper water, then back around her in a circle.
Her quick trip to the river turned into an hour-long play session with Max. And she’d had a blast. So had he.
She looked over at him now. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling as he contentedly chewed on the stick. He looked up, ears alert, and she turned, following his gaze. Jack and Barney were coming down the trail. Max got to his feet and ran up to greet them.
“You beat me,” Jack said.
“Sure did.”
He pointed at her shorts. “Those are different.”
“River shorts,” she said. “For swimming. They dry in, like, five minutes.”
By silent consent, they walked past the marker and to their little fishing hole.
“You told me yourself that the hole we fish in isn’t even over my head. I don’t think you’ll fit.”
“No? Well, maybe I’ll just hop in and cool off.”
“No! You’ll chase away all the fish!”
She reached out and ruffled his hair. “Aren’t you tired of catching the same little sunfish over and over?”
“No…it’s fun.”
“What’s fun is fishing the river and catching a big bass or something. Or throwing lines out at night and catching blue cats,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“Catfish.”
They got to their spot and she handed him a plastic bag of corn, and he went about the routine of baiting his hook.
“I went over to the river this morning,” she said.
“You did? Were you okay?”
She nodded. “I didn’t stop at their house. I went down to our old swimming hole.” She pointed at her shorts. “I got in. That’s the reason for these.”
He nodded. “My momma asked me to go swimming with her. Over at the state park.”
“Garner? Yeah, that’s nice but crowded. During the summer, you can hardly get in the place.” She sat down beside him. “Why didn’t you go?”
He shrugged. “I wanted to come down here with you.”
“It’s hot. You should go with her. We can do this anytime.”
“I know…but…”
She bumped his shoulder affectionately. “I like spending time with you too,” she said quietly.
He smiled up at her, then turned his attention back to his bobber, which hadn’t moved. After a few minutes, he turned to her.
“She wants to meet you.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “She does? You told her about me?”
“Kinda. I don’t think she thinks you’re real.”
“What do you mean?”
“The way she looks when I mention you…like I made you up.” He kicked at a rock. “Like I’m some little kid or something.”
“Oh,” she said. “Like an imaginary playmate?”
“Uh-huh.”
She nodded. Well, she knew this day would come sooner or later. It was probably past time that she met his mother. If they met and she saw that Lindsey wasn’t some wacko or something, maybe she’d let Jack go fishing with her. Real fishing, at the river. And maybe swimming too.
And maybe she’d take him out to the pond. She wanted to go there, but she didn’t want to go alone. If she was going to go with anybody, she wanted it to be Jack. So yeah, maybe it was time to meet his mom.
It was hot. Hotter than usual and the fish weren’t biting. They’d given up fishing and had simply walked in the creek, splashing around to keep cool. Jack was barefoot, carrying his shoes with him as they walked.
“You need to get some sandals like this,” she told him.
He nodded. “I’ll ask Mom.”
When they got back to their usual meeting place, she motioned up the hill. “You want me to walk home with you and meet your mom now?”
He looked at her and smiled. “Would you?”
“Sure. It’ll put her mind at ease, at least. And maybe if she likes me, she might let you go fishing with me.”
His eyes lit up. “At the river?”
“Yeah.” She grinned too. “And maybe swimming.”
“Oh, that’d be so cool, Lindsey! And Barney could come too, right?”
“Of course. Max and Barney are buddies, just like you and me.”
“Yeah…buddies like us.”
Jack sat down and quickly put his shoes back on, then led the way up the hill. Barney ran around him with Max following. She brought up the rear.
“So what’s your mom like?”
He shrugged. “She’s just Mom. Kinda old, I guess.”
Old? Well, the kid was nine, almost ten. She thought his mother could be anywhere between thirty and forty. Lindsey didn’t really have an image of her in her mind. She hadn’t given his mother much thought, really. Would she look like Jack? Blond hair and blue eyes? Or was Jack a replica of his dad?
When the house came into sight, it brought back an old memory that she hadn’t thought of in years. She and Shane—pre-teens at the time—had crossed the creek onto the Larson’s property and had crept up the hill, hoping to catch Old Lady Larson outside. They had hidden behind some young cedars, the house—this house—looking huge and sinister to their eyes. Sure enough, Old Lady Larson was hanging clothes out on the line. They’d lost their nerve to run up and scare her, though. They had broken into a fit of giggles at the thought, however, and she had heard them. To their surprise, she was still quite nimble on her feet and she chased them through the woods and back across the creek, screaming at them the whole time. By the time they’d made it back to their grandparents’ house, she had already called, telling them to keep those “hoodlum” kids off her property. Her grandmother’s words still rang in her ears today: “She’s a mean old biddy. Best leave her alone. If she catches you, we’re likely to never get you back.”
She smiled at the memory. That scene only reinforced the warnings that they’d heard most of their young lives…warnings to stay away from the Larson place.
Now, here she was, some seventeen years later, walking up to that very same house, the house that Jack now lived in. She wondered what had happened to Old Lady Larson and if she was still alive.
“Jack…you said this was your great-grandmother’s house?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Where is she? Does she live with you?”
“No. She’s really old. She’s in…what do they call it? A home?”
“Nursing home?”
“Yeah. There. So Grandma Margie said we could live here.” He stopped walking. “She had so much old junk in there, we didn’t have anywhere to put our stuff. That’s what my mom’s been doing…cleaning it.” His voice lowered. “Grandma Margie isn’t real happy with the change.”
Lindsey smiled at him and nodded. “Change is hard.” Her smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. Yeah, she should know. Change was very hard. Of course, Jack would know that too.
The dogs romping by the back porch must have caused enough racket for Jack’s mother to hear. The back door opened slowly and a woman came out. An attractive young woman, perhaps only a few years older than herself. And no, she wasn’t blond like Jack. Her hair was light brown, cut short like her own, barely covering her ears on the side. She walked out onto the porch, and even from this distance, Lindsey could see the shock on her face. Jack had been right. His mother thought she was only a figment of his imagination.
As she and Jack walked closer, the woman looked between the two of them, then her gaze darted to the dogs, then back to Jack. Jack jerked his thumb at Lindsey.
“Well, you wanted to meet her. Here she is. And that’s Max.”
She was clearly shaken so Lindsey walked to the porch, smiling, hoping to put her at ease. “I’m Lindsey McDermott,” she said.
The woman’s eyes were brown, not blue. “Hannah…Hannah Larson,” she said. “I’m—”
“Jack’s mom,” Lindsey finished for her. “Nice to meet you.”
Hannah Larson stared her up and down, apparently still not sure what to make of her. Lindsey stood there, shifting a bit nervously as Hannah inspected her. Hannah finally gave her a hesitant smile.
“Come in, please,” she said, motioning to the back door. “Jack…why don’t you stay outside with the dogs.”
He smirked. “I know you want to talk about me. It’s okay.”
At that, Hannah Larson smiled. “Quit being such a smarty-pants.”